Dungeons and Dragons: Birth of Legends
by furriusmurrius
Summary: A ragtag bunch of misfits meet and begin a quest when an identical letter is given to each member of this newly formed motley crew. Before they know it, they are plunged deep into the seedy adventure that lies within...C.14 UP!
1. Chapter I: Room Thirteen, Part One

DUNGEONS AND DRAGONS: BIRTH OF LEGENDS

By Shawn E. Murray

CHAPTER I: ROOM THIRTEEN, PART ONE

Barakus and Furrius tread down a winding, dirty path. Ahead in the distance, they could see the faint outline of the outskirts of a small town.

"Any clue where we're headed, Barakus?" the cleric asked casually. He knew that even if Barakus responded, it'd be short and poignant.

"No." True to form, the large human responded monosyllabically. His studded leather vest glinted in the sunlight as they reached an impasse – standing in front of them was a short, robed figure, holding out a small piece of parchment.

He said nothing – he merely gestured for Furrius or Barakus to take the letter – it was clear that it was intended for both of them. No sooner than Furrius relieved the figure of his letter, he disappeared – certainly, this being possessed mastery over magic…perhaps, even, over planes of existence.

Quickly cracking the waxen seal of the letter, Furrius read it aloud to Barakus – his barbarian counterpart couldn't read a word of common, though he was extraordinarily smart for a man of his class. Perhaps it was the two years he and Furrius had spent together that had somewhat tamed the savage beast – but no, Furrius knew all too well that Barakus could rage just as well as his barbaric brethren.

"It says we should go to room thirteen in the Three Winds Inn…this guy seems to want to enlist our services in some kind of mission…"

"Waste of time…" Barakus said, starting to walk toward the town ahead. He dismissed the contents of the letter as Furrius quickened his pace to catch up – half-elves were typically fast and nimble, but the way Furrius had been brought up in conjunction with the awkward armor he wore made him downright clumsy.

"We should help him, Barakus. If I hadn't helped you, I'd be walking this path alone right now…at least, let's go hear him out. We can choose whether or not to help him after we get to room thirteen."

Barakus' brow furrowed into what Furrius recognized as his 'thoughtful' look.

"Fine."

Walking through the town seemed ordinary enough – many different classes of people milled about, creating the illusion that it was a crossroads of sorts. After only a few minutes, Furrius and Barakus found themselves standing in front of a two story building with a large sign out in front. The sign read "The Three Winds Inn". Across town, they could see two rivers flowing through the center of it – they were beautiful, accenting the beauty of the town immensely. Far away, they could faintly see a sign over a building that read simply, "TWINN."

"Room thir-" Furrius began to inquire inside the Three Winds, holding up the piece of parchment on which the message was written - but the desk clerk merely smiled and pointed up the stairs. Traveling the worn, wooden hallway, they finally found themselves in front of room thirteen.

"Open," Barakus muttered.

Furrius bit his lip – it was one thing to travel with a large, barbaric meat-shield. It was another to take orders from him.

"Yes. Open. I understand. Thanks for the insight, friend…" he said in a harried tone of voice.

Barakus scowled at his cleric friend. "Sorry," he said, rapping his companion powerfully on the shoulder. Furrius, proving his nimbleness, lost his footing and slammed into the door, face first. The only thing that broke his fall was the thin layer of parchment which was the letter.

Upon touching the door, the letter glowed a bright white – instantly, it shot out in all directions, eventually engulfing the entire doorway in an ethereal, bright light. Smiling awkwardly at his friend, Furrius gestured for him to enter the white doorway.

"After you," he said, his eye catching Barakus' greataxe as he stepped ahead of him. If something was to attack them, it was always best to have someone skilled in combat up ahead…

Moments later, as the white light subsided, Furrius and Barakus found themselves standing in a large, stone room. The walls of the room seemed rustic, decrepit. They saw nothing up ahead, but heard a strange cackling voice ring out through the room.

"How nice of you to come so quickly – truly a blessing," the voice sneered, breaking out into a maniacal fit of laughter immediately thereafter. Furrius looked at Barakus, frowning slightly. Barakus held his head as the laughter rattled his brain – Furrius had to stand firmly to defend against it. Was it an attack? It certainly seemed to be causing a bit of pain to his tall friend…

"Quite a welcome…" he said, visually checking the room as the laughter abruptly stopped. "Hello? Hello!" he called, but there was no answer. A tall door stood ahead of him, three panels clearly different than the rest of the room; Barakus had keenly spotted a small slit beneath one of the stone panels to the right of the room – upon sticking his fingers beneath it, he found a small, wooden button which he promptly pushed. Caught unaware by the rapid movement of the panel, Barakus nearly lost a finger as it slid into the wall, revealing a long, ornate hidden passageway.

"Barakus, look at this door…fascinating. Some technology, eh?" the half-elf muttered to his friend as he ran his fingers along the door. Barakus was halfway down the newly discovered passageway when Furrius heard him call, "split up."

Sensing no threat, Furrius passed through the large doorway – the three panels that comprised the door slid into each other, one after the next. The material of the next room was unheard of – it looked black and sleek, smooth to the touch. Almost slippery…as Furrius ran his hand over the various jewels and inscriptions in the wall, he realized most of the words were in a strange language that even he didn't understand in the faintest.

Barakus wandered the hidden hallway – it was beautiful. Fantastic masonry work made it look much more like a passage in a castle than one in a dungeon – as he reached the end of the hallway, he noticed two large wooden doors. Pushing them inward, Barakus alerted the surprised, unseen residents of the small, pitch black room. As he casually reached back to procure a torch from his pack, he sadly realized that he had come unprepared. It was very unlike him to lack a tool as necessary as a torch – lately, they had become unnecessary. Furrius constantly cast a light spell when they reached nightfall or dark areas…but now his cleric friend was nowhere to be seen.

At the very end of the long, wide hallway made of black stone, Furrius happened across a spiral staircase that led downward, made of the same material. Remembering how slick the substance was, Furrius steadied himself as best he could before embarking – but it was no use. The clumsy cleric merely touched one foot to the topmost stair before he slid down the entire length of the ladder, landing squarely on his rear end.

Always prepared with a light spell, Furrius smiled upward to Wee Jas. "Thank you, god…" he said as his mace lit up like a torch. The elvin cleric immediately wished he hadn't lit the room, however – standing a mere five feet away from him were several disgusting beasts, each snarling at the intruder. Furrius attempted to dodge a slash from a spiked chain, whipped by one of the beasts, but he failed – the chain knocked him to the ground, incapacitated, as the chain-mail clad warriors dragged him away across the smooth, earthy ground.

Barakus wasn't having any fun either – monsters were attacking him from all sides, moving as quickly and surely as any creature would in plain light. Eventually, the beasts (Barakus had surmised there were at least two) had knocked the barbarian out cold.

Hours later, Furrius woke up, his arms stinging with pain. He soon realized he was shackled to a wall in a medium sized chamber made of a strange, earthy material. It wasn't entirely organic…but it was definitely lacking the finesse of a stone or wooden room. Torches lit the room in sconces hanging on the walls as a large, intimidating creature toyed with the patient cleric. Furrius hadn't been on many adventures, and those he remembered had involved standard fare like humans and orcs – these creatures were something entirely new to him…he began to loathe and despise them and their entire race as they tortured him for hours on end, cutting his clothes and burning his flesh until he passed out, repeatedly. It felt like weeks…months…every waking moment that Furrius wasn't being tortured by his captors, he spent praying to Wee Jas.

Barakus wasn't out cold for long – in fact, he woke up minutes after he had been clubbed in the head. Unfortunately, he was in a similar predicament to the cleric – a small, ten by five room was all he could see around him – no doors, no windows. The rage burning deep inside him, Barakus pounded the walls, attempting to escape…but it was no use…he passed out slumped against the wall, hoping that soon Furrius would rescue him…


	2. Chapter II: Room Thirteen, Part Two

CHAPTER II: ROOM THIRTEEN, PART TWO

The Three Winds Inn was particularly busy over the next few days – the clerk could hardly keep up with the requests for rooms – but he knew his place and he did his job well, answering all questions as they came his way. He peered across the lobby of the inn, spying several bedraggled commoners; each carrying a piece of parchment that looked similar to the one the cleric and barbarian had showed him days earlier.

Krougu stepped up to a timid looking gnomish man who sat at a table, drinking a small glass of ale.

"Mind if I sit?" the tall rogue asked the man. The gnome looked up at Krougu, slowly sliding his letter out of sight.

"I guess there'd be no harm in that…" he said into the mug of ale. "What brings ya here?"

"I suspect the same thing as you…" he said, staring at the tiniest visible corner of the gnomish bard's letter. "Room thirteen?"

Taking a moment to size up his competition, he sighed deeply. "I think. I can't read the whole thing – it's all torn up…"

"Well, lucky for you, I'm a bit of a rogue…I've seen several others milling about with similar letters…"

He laid his letter on the table – it wasn't easy to read, either, but they were able to get the gist of the message.

Across the lobby, Illonel bartered with a gruff looking man. Illonel was an elf – a very handsome, charming elf – that specialized in fighting techniques. It was true that many a peasant who crossed his path merely managed to speak 'Ill-' before he cut their throats with his long rapier. In his hometown, it was a running joke that he was the impetus for the word 'ill' – though this jest only pissed him off and caused him to train harder, so that he could kill enemies before they even got that far.

"How much do you want for her?" the gruff man slobbered, looking over Illonel's shoulder at the beautiful sorceress he had entered with. "I'd be willing to give you two gold…"

"Two gold? I've got bigger fish to fry…" he said, turning slowly as to allow the man to raise his offer.

"Fine! Five gold…but I get her all night…" he said, rubbing his hands.

"Where's my advance?" Illonel said greedily.

Upon hearing this, the pretty female turned and stared in disbelief at Illonel. "You son-of-a-bitch!" she said, slapping him across the face. He relished the female touch, even if it was a bit harsh for his liking. He smiled weakly at the grubby merchant who sought the female's company and rushed off after her, bumping into a handsome and suave looking sorcerer on the way.

"Oh…jeez…sorry…" the half-elf sorcerer apologized, awkwardly brushing off Illonel's cape. "My mistake…" he said, tucking a small piece of parchment into his shirt.

"Wait – what is that? Hey!" Illonel called over to his female colleague. "C'mere, he's got one, too!"

"What, this?" the man asked, pulling out the parchment.

Illonel rapidly grabbed the letter and held it up to the one he and his friend had received, comparing – they were both missing key words, but when he touched them together ever so slightly, they merged to form a letter with slightly less rips and tears.

"Hmm…my deductive reasoning tells me that if we find more of these, we'll decipher the entire message," Illonel stated, turning the newly formed letter over in his hands.

"I'd be inclined to agree with you, stranger…oh, my name's Celathiel. In case you were wondering."

"Illonel. In case you weren't."

Near the clerk's desk, several people gathered – a tall, squarish human paladin; a short but fierce-looking necromancer; and a pretty elvin druid laid their letters on the counter at once, seeking answers from the clerk.

"I told you…I can only help one guest at a time!"

But before he got to 'help' anyone, Krougu's meaty hand laid to rest on the paladin's armor. Before the three of them could even say a word, he scooped up the letters and combined them, the result of which was a nearly fully-legible piece of parchment.

"Gotta be some more…" he said, scoping out the room – he barely noticed a sorcerer, a sorceress and a fighter at the foot of the stairs – but he did see a piece of parchment wagging from the fighter's fist.

"Room thirteen?" Celathiel said, raising an eyebrow at the rogue as he approached with his entourage of not-so-merry men.

"Yeah. Have you…" he began to ask, but Celathiel had already skillfully plucked both letters out of their respective hands and combined them – a fully legible, completely whole letter stood in his hands, as they read.

"Well that was a waste of fucking time! It says pretty much EVERYTHING it said before! Room thirteen, there's a mission, blah, blah, blah…" Sic the bard scoffed, goggling at the letter from three steps above – everyone else stood on the lobby floor, and the only way to get a proper vantage point for the gnome was to climb the nearby stairs.

"Yeah…but don't you think we were brought together for a reason? Like, maybe we can't get into room thirteen alone…" Celathiel pondered.

"True. There's definitely got to be a reasoning behind the enchanment – it's powerful…too powerful to waste on a silly parlor trick," Illonel added.

"Well then…let's go check it out," Krougu insisted, heading up the stairs. Sic held out his stubby arm and stopped him.

"Don't you think it'd look a bit strange if eight people tried to clamor into a two person room at an inn? We don't wanna draw attention to ourselves…look. I'll put on a show – I'm not bad with the guitar. It'll at least draw some attention away from room thirteen…"

"We'll go rent another room…we might end up here for a while…" the paladin said, ushering the druid along with him.

The bard, rogue and necromancer stayed below and set up a small stage on which to play. Sic wasn't lying – within minutes, most of the random denizens of the inn had come to watch them play. His less musically inclined friends merely stood around him, providing a watch on the ever increasing pile of gold near Sic's feet – not only was it distracting, it was profitable as well…

Minutes later, the paladin and druid returned to Sic's side.

"We've rented room fourteen. It's ours for a while…" the druid smirked, taking up a guard position around Sic. The bard nodded and continued the show – he didn't skip a beat.

Upstairs, Celathiel, Illonel and his female sorceress friend jiggled the handle to room thirteen – nothing. Slamming their fists against it yielded even worse results – the door seemingly sprouted fists and punched Celathiel and the sorceress in the noses, bloodying them quite badly. Illonel ran his fingers across the door, checking the nuances…suddenly, a loud, cackling laughter rang out, deafening the eight letter-holders.

Sic dropped his guitar as he clutched his head in pain – the onlookers were shocked, for they hadn't heard the laughter. It grew louder and more fierce, making it impossible to concentrate…fighting through the pain, Krougu shouted up the stairs.

"The letter! Has anyone done anything with the letter!"

Celathiel nearly crushed the letter in his hand. "What the hell do you want me to do with the letter? Use it to pick the lock? Use it as a fucking battering ram!" he screamed, slamming the letter into the door – instantly, the parchment glowed a bright white, engulfing the wooden door and creating an ethereal looking passageway. The debilitating laughter ceased at once.

Sheepishly, the sorcerer called down to his friends. "I figured it out!"

Krougu muttered to himself as he bounded up the stairs, the performers following. "HE figured it out…yeah…"

Sic bowed hastily and snatched up the gold he had earned – the crowd turned violent as they lashed out at the performer who stopped in the middle of his show. "Sorry folks! Ten-minute intermission!" he cried, diving into the white doorway as it blinked shut behind him and the seven other bearers of the letter.


	3. Chapter III: Rescue Party?

CHAPTER III: RESCUE PARTY?

Krougu found himself in a large stone entry way where Furrius and Barakus had been only days before. Their scent had been lost in the daily shuffle of beasts and monsters.

The familiar laughter rang through the room as a hooded figure appeared, positively rocking with laughter. The very same man that had personally delivered the letters to them; as far as they could tell. "Finally! You make it past the oh-so-difficult to decipher doorway…why, I thought you had at least one brain amongst the lot of you, but it seems I was wrong… NO MATTER!" his voice was harsh and unpredictable – he could be whispering one moment only to scream at them the next – it proved to be quite disorienting. "I wanted you to come here to help me, but since it's taken you so long to merely gain access to the room, I don't know if I can count on you to do the thing that I had intended you to DO…" he rambled, thoroughly confusing the new companions. "Ah…well, as hard as it proved to get into this room, it will prove infinitely harder to get OUT…" he chided, laughing as he disappeared into a black mist.

"Well that was nice…" Illonel said, rolling his eyes.

Looking back, the rugged rogue Krougu realized that he was still accompanied by some of the strangers he had met in the inn.

Illonel, the handsome elvin fighter smiled as Krougu looked his way. Next to him stood the diminutive Sic, counting his hard earned gold. The bard wasn't selfish – but who in the world put more merit in the friendship of strangers than in gold? Celathiel rubbed his wounded nose gingerly, wiping the blood streaks away with his sleeve.

"Where's the rest?" Krougu asked, knowing that his traveling mates were just as clueless as he was. The female sorcerer, the brave paladin, the druid and the wizard hadn't followed. Perhaps they were still safely in room fourteen…perhaps they had suffered a far worse fate. The group shrugged at Krougu's question.

"Let's search the room…" Krougu said, beginning to peek intently at the stony walls.

"You mean instead of walking straight through those big doors straight ahead? Those aren't good enough for you?" the sorcerer asked sarcastically.

"Smartass…" Krougu said, continuing his search. "Ya gonna help me, or not?" he barked, causing the men to sigh and assist him in his search. Eventually, Krougu had spotted a small slit under one of the rock panels.

"Hey, there's a button under here…should I press it?" he asked over his shoulder to the party.

"Go for it…" said Illonel, stepping as far away as he was able.

"I concur…" the bard said, meeting Illonel.

"Yeah, sure…" agreed the sorcerer, keeping a safe distance.

As the rogue pushed the small button within, the panel slid open to reveal an ornate passageway.

"It's nice…kind of like it's too nice for this creepy old dungeon, ya know?" Sic half-asked the team as they headed down the narrow, ten-foot wide hallway.

The sorcerer walked up to the wall and tapped it with his hand – it felt and reacted just like any other wall, as far as he could tell…

Krougu and Illonel reached another smaller set of double doors up ahead – slowly opening them, they were treated with an interesting sight – three large humanoids stood in the room, sniffing intently. Large sconces with torches burning brightly let them take a closer look at the monsters. Their skin was grey and scaly…their eyes, nonexistent. Dark black sockets laid where eyes normally did the same, and most of the group didn't have any idea what the creatures were.

"Grimlocks?" Illonel pondered, firing an arrow directly into the center monster's chest. It bellowed a fierce battle cry as Krougu followed suit with his bow and arrow.

"Uh…do we even know if these are enemies?" the sorcerer asked, sighing. "Well, I certainly hope you're enemies, because if you're not, I feel terrible about this…" he said, aiming a shot with his crossbow, next to the bard. Both of their bolts missed – Sic's was so far off that Illonel felt the breeze of it next to his pointed ear. He turned and shot his party member a furious look, only looking back to jump into the fray of battle. Sic smiled sheepishly as he stepped backwards, trying to line up a shot for his next opportune moment.

Stupidly rushing into the line of sight of the rogue and fighter, the first grimlock was easily dispatched by Krougu's first opportune attack. Attempting to flank the second one, Sic and Krougu made easy work of it – though its crude battle axe took a sizable chunk of the rogue's shoulder with it. The final grimlock had no chance – a magic missile issued by Celathiel burst his head open like a watermelon.

The only thing of interest that Celathiel and Krougu found on the grimlocks was a small, black pouch seemingly made of leather. Searching the rest of the room, Sic happened upon a small, golden coin. It had strange etching in it that seemed random; nobody could decipher it. It wasn't even clear that it was a language…Sic stowed it away as they searched the rest of the room.

Sliding his hands across another odd panel, Krougu caused a hidden doorway in the rear of the room to slide open, revealing a large, human body. The limp body of Barakus slumped over Krougu, knocking him to the ground. As Sic and Illonel helped lift the man, Krougu shook him.

The tall barbarian came to quickly, rubbing his stomach hungrily.

"Are you alright?" asked Illonel.

"Yes," replied Barakus. He said nothing more as the party stared at him blankly.

"Uh…okay…are you an enemy?" the rogue said, attempting to use his charisma to win over the large man's favor.

Inspecting his rescuers, Barakus realized that Furrius was not among them. Sensing no threat and wishing to find his missing friend with as much assistance as possible, he said, "no. I'm Barakus."

Sic, Calathiel, Illonel and Krougu rolled their eyes. As much fun as it was to have a conversation with a brick wall, they needed to move on. The room they had opened was just an indentation in the wall – they had reached a dead end.

"Well, Barakus…we're trying to get out of here. Are you coming or not?" Krougu asked impatiently.

With the promise of exiting the dungeon and the hope of finding his friend, Barakus looked into Krougu's eyes and simply said, "sure."

A few minutes later, they found themselves in a room peppered with jewels and etchings.

"See? I told you it was a good idea to use the big doorway…" Celathiel remarked as the group entered the long, black corridor. Clearly enamored with the jewels embedded in the wall, Illonel attempted to pry one free for his personal use…but it was no good; his rapier simply could not do the job. Barakus, hoping to win over the favor of his new traveling party, attempted the same with his greataxe, with a much worse result – slipping off of the wall, he slammed his face into his own axe.

"There's a lesson in thinking before you act…" the bard said smugly as Barakus scowled, wiping a bit of blood from under his nose.

"Hey, guys…a staircase…" Krougu said, peering down the dark reaches below. "I'll go first with Illonel…we'll call up when we see that it's safe…" he said, starting down the stairs.

Illonel sighed and shook his head. "Why must I always be volunteered for these kinds of things…?"

Slipping from the top step just like Furrius, Krougu thought he was done for…until he grabbed hold of a banister that was shrouded in shadow. "H…hey! There's a banister!" he said childishly, using it to get to the bottom of the stairway. As the five of them reassembled at the bottom of the steps, they stared in awe at the room.

It was a glassy looking room…beautiful, almost no imperfections in wonderfully sculpted stonework. Four doors stood on each wall of the room, with the spiral staircase almost directly in the center.

"Let's go through one of these doors…" Sic said, trying to get his comrades' attention. "Hello? Doors? Why are we searching the room again! There are four freakin' doors!" he cried, exasperation dripping from his voice. "We don't need to search every inch of every room! This is tedium at its worst!"

"If you'd just shut up and help, we'd be done a lot faster…" the sorcerer reasoned. Soon enough, after marveling at the slick transition from wall to floor in a corner, Illonel had indeed discovered a small ring sticking up from the ground. With Barakus' help, they opened the heavy hatch to reveal a small underground chamber.

"Down," Barakus said, looking into the hole.

"Uh…yeah, sure thing, big guy…" said Celathiel, lighting his weapon aglow with the power of a light spell. "You want to check it out?" he asked Illonel, handing over the arrow.

"Why don't you do it yourself…" Illonel said moodily, clearing the way for the sorcerer.

"Okay…somebody grab my legs…I'm going down…"

In the corner, Sic and Krougu crassly laughed at the sorcerer's poor word choice. Barakus listened intently – he swore he could hear the faint screaming of his traveling partner emanating from the underground passage. He grabbed Celathiel's ankle and lifted him high, staring into his eyes.

"Furrius," he said, lowering the confused man into the hole. Even with the light of the weapon and his low-light vision, he couldn't see too far down the path – what he could tell, however, was that it was a long, cylindrical hallway that led diagonally across the room.

"Pull me up!" he squeaked, as Barakus complied. "Okay, now lower me down so I can touch the ground with my feet."

Barakus grunted and lowered the sorcerer by his wrist, this time, letting go at the furthest point of his descent. Awkwardly, the half-elf snatched to the human's arm before he started to fall – there was no ground directly beneath his feet, so he couldn't stand. A short drop wouldn't have killed him…but he clung on for dear life like it might have. Raising him back out of the hole, Barakus yelled in his face. "Stupid!"

"Would you just slide down the damn wall?" Krougu asked, getting irritated with Celathiel's poor grasp of physics.

"Slide down the wall? What the hell are you…" Celathiel protested.

"Seriously, get down in the hole or let someone else do it," Illonel said harshly.

"There's always the option of one of these four freakin' doors…" Sic said, still angry that no one was listening to him.

"Gee, sorry for breathing. Fuck…" the sorcerer said, stepping to the side and allowing Krougu to jump below.

Immediately upon landing, Krougu slid down the length of the hole, like it was a sick, demented water slide. As he reached the far wall, a trap door identical to the entrance opened above and he was launched in an arch across the small room. Awkwardly landing on Illonel, the two of them stood up, brushing themselves off.

"What a ride…" he said, heading back for the entry trapdoor.

"Wait…wait…you're going back in there?" asked Sic, questioning his sanity. "Not only are we NOT using conventional doorways, but now it's a good idea to go back into hidden rooms that are obviously booby-trapped?"

"There's another hatch down there…just need to time it right to get it open…"

After Krougu and Illonel had both gone into the hole, Barakus and Calathiel followed, each of them ending up in the small, hidden hatch that Krougu had miraculously opened. A few times, they missed the hatch and arced across the room for minutes at a time – some actually had a good time of it. Finally, the bard stood in the room alone.

"Fuckin' loonies…can't even use a perfectly good doorway…" he mused, diving below to meet his group in the secret room.


	4. Chapter IV: Ample Timing

CHAPTER IV: AMPLE TIMING

The five of them landed in a small, earthy chamber. It was dirty and moist…almost like the room wasn't anything more than dug out of the ground. Traversing a narrow pathway, they came up to a room that was fairly well lit. Noticing some dark shadows in corners, Celathiel turned to Illonel.

"You have my light arrow?"

"No…you had it last…look, keep track of your own gear, alright?" Illonel snapped. As the sorcerer reached behind him, he found his arrow in his pack, still glowing brightly. Then, they saw the threat – three more grimlocks stood in their way to the end of the room. At the far wall, they could see a large figure wearing a strong looking chainmail armor. He swung a spiked chain that scratched his captive's flesh, causing new wounds and reopening old. Two larger grimlocks flanked him on either side.

"Heh. That's mine…" Illonel said matter-of-factly as he spied the spiked chain weapon.

"The hell it is…" Barakus never spoke more than when he had stake in something.

Barakus instantly dove at the closest grimlock. In a stunning display of strength, he sliced it from head to toe, splitting the monster in half. Catching them off guard was very beneficial – Illonel had stabbed the second grimlock and slashed it to death in two acrobatic moves. For an encore, he stepped off of the corpse of the slain grimlock and plunged his rapier into the chest of the next closest one. The competition of power between the fighter and the barbarian was beneficial to the party – even though it was for a selfish goal, three grimlocks were now dead, and that was quite a feat.

Furrius moved his hands as much as he could in the constricting shackles, newly inspired by the sight of his rescuers. After a moment, he had successfully cast a light spell directly at his tormentor's eye. He yowled in pain, temporarily blinded in one eye, but all it seemed to do was enhance his desire to cause Furrius pain. Illonel and Calathiel stood back as Barakus flew into a forceful rage, diving at the creature wearing the chain mail. Blow after blow landed on the beast, but it still stood.

Sic and Celathiel shot arrows across the room, laying waste to one of the remaining grimlocks – one, however, snuck up on Krougu and Barakus. It dealt two crippling blows, sending the rogue and the barbarian to the ground, writhing in agony…

"If someone could get me off this damned wall, I could heal you!" Furrius called as he struggled with his shackles. Attempting to cause fear in the monster with a spell, the cleric concentrated on Wee Jas…the monster turned back to him and laughed openly. "Guess that's a failed attempt…" Furrius gulped.

"I'm almost through with you…" the monster harshly bellowed, turning back to the room. Sic had snuck up to Krougu and Barakus, attempting to heal them before the creature attacked again.

As if there wasn't enough going on in the room, a large wolf materialized across the room behind Illonel, catching he and Celathiel completely off guard. Reflexes sharp as a new dagger, Illonel kicked off of the canine's grotesque face and vaulted away from it. As Celathiel attempted to attack the beast, it blinked out of existence and reappeared behind Sic, tearing a chunk out of the little bard.

"What? That's ridiculous…" the sorcerer said near the doorway. Just as things began to look grim, the maniacal laughter of their host rang through the room. With no flourish, the wolf disappeared and the tormenting creature shifted…turning after a moments time into the robed man.

"Ahh, I'm impressed. I must say, I never thought you'd get this far after your sorry display with the letter…" he said, snapping his fingers. Krougu and Barakus woke up, weak, but stable; Furrius dropped from the wall as his shackles unlocked. "I believe you wanted this?" he said, tossing the spiked chain to Illonel. "But, I must apologize…I daresay I get a tad overzealous...I am in need of your assistance…"

Furrius looked up at the menacing figure – he wasn't tall, but the beaten and bruised cleric was in no condition to judge. As his fingers gripped the soil tightly he said, "Bullshit."

"Hmmm? Can I pose a question? Why are you allowing HIM to accompany you…? Don't you know that he'll steal everything you own, leaving you when you need him most…?"

The robed figure gestured toward the bard…or was it the fighter? Furrius couldn't tell…his vision was blurry…the comment was vague enough to apply to anyone in the room, he realized…was the robed man toying with his mind?

"How can you trust his loyalty? You've only known him for mere minutes..." the robed figure continued.

"And already he's proven more to me than you have in the days I've known you," the cleric shot back, finally standing. "Anyone that comes to my rescue is okay in my book."

The robed man smiled forcefully. "Unrequited trust…how touching…very well." The man instantly vanished as the room and all its inhabitants did the same – with a flash of light, the adventurers were teleported back to their base of operations in room fourteen. As they shared their letters, notes, and information gleaned in the dungeon, Furrius and Barakus were finally glad to be with good company. Sadly, the wizard, paladin, druid and sorceress were nowhere to be seen.

In the room there were ten identical care packages – each contained, among other things, a bedroll, a small pouch containing a platinum piece and five gold, torches, rations, and an interesting cloak. Inside the lining of each cloak was a strange velvety substance that bore a symbol – a circle with a dash inside, like a single-handed clock or compass. Many of these symbols lined up and down the inside of the hood, each dash rotating a small increment more than the last. In the very center sat a magical icon which rotated all by itself, and on the back was a larger icon that didn't move at all.

Luckily, the Three Winds Inn had amenities – the cleric, barbarian, sorcerer, fighter, bard and rogue all laid down for a much deserved rest.


	5. Chapter V: The Duke of Suffolk

CHAPTER V: THE DUKE OF SUFFOLK

As they awoke the following morning, the malicious laughter rang out once again, nearly splitting Illonel's head from the force. As it died down, a figure appeared out of thin air in the center of the room – a large, ornate throne, covered in leafy designs. The golden chair seemed to be facing everyone in the room – indeed, as they tried to change their perspectives by moving around the room, it always faced them…

In the chair, much to the letter-bearer's chagrin, sat the robed figure. He didn't appear ill at ease at all – clearly, it was an illusion. They all got the sinking suspicion that even if he had been in the room, he still wouldn't have batted an eye – he took quite a punishment from Barakus and barely flinched the entire time.

"Sorry to BARGE in on you like this, gentlemen…and, once more, allow me to apologize."

Furrius sniffed and glared at the man, not wishing to provoke another attack. He was certainly angry; but he was wise enough to stay his ground.

"What do you want?" Illonel asked impatiently, rubbing his temples.

"As I specified in my letter, I am in need of assistance…I mean, you were the only six to respond! Have you ANY IDEA how many letters I sent out seeking assistance? And only six…" he clucked his tongue condescendingly.

"Ten. There were ten of us…" Celathiel pointed out, taking Furrius and Barakus into account.

"Hmmm…" the robed figure tapped his finger against the arm of the throne. "No matter…"

Krougu turned to Illonel, who sat on the bed next to him after getting dressed. "Wasn't that sorceress your friend? Aren't you worried?"

Illonel shrugged. "She'll turn up. She always does."

The robed figure cleared his throat. "AS I was saying…I need…liaisons…"

"Why the hell should we help you?" Illonel asked. "You're communicating through a friggin' illusion…we don't even know your NAME…"

In the blink of an eye, the robed man procured a small letter opener from his robe and threw it at Illonel's head, narrowly missing as it struck the wall behind him. The object was real – solid silver, Illonel realized, as he stowed it away in his pack. Gesturing to the others that this was not a man to be taken lightly, he allowed the robed figure to continue.

"Have you enjoyed your stay in Suffolk thus far? It's quite a town…no? Yes…but it didn't get that way OVERNIGHT…no," he cleared his throat again. "There…there is a Duke of this town. A most honored and prestigious Duke, I might say…quite difficult to gain an audience with. You see – I used to be in the Duke's small cabinet of…shall we say, mages. Enlisting the help of those talented in the arcane and divine arts, he was able to make this town prosper. Yes, I rose through the ranks…" he paused to chuckle to himself. "Or was it fly? It certainly seemed as though I passed through the ranks quickly…in any case. Once I had become the head mage – the so-called 'leader' of this mage guild – before I was fired unceremoniously and thrown from the premises."

"Just like that? I mean, no reason?" Sic asked genuinely.

The robed man laughed. "When you're the Duke, you don't need to give REASONS to fire your staff, evidently, my gnomish friend…alas – I have ATTEMPTED on many occasions to gain an audience with the Duke…but I am banned from the Duke's manor. I have a somewhat unique character trait. Surely you are familiar with the head-splitting laughter that rings through your ears now and again?"

Illonel nodded painfully as the robed man continued.

"It's a sort of…defense mechanism. I leave a mark on everything I come in contact with – the letters, and therefore, those who touch the letters…the sensation you experience is nothing more than my mark being erased…"

"Mark?" some of the group muttered, not truly asking the robed figure about it.

"Neither here nor there – regardless, I need some commoners to gain an audience with the Duke. Namely, YOU six. All I ask is that you find out WHY I was fired…"

"No way…" Furrius began to protest, but the robed man cut him off as Celathiel and Sic stayed him with a hand.

"A handsome reward awaits you."

"How handsome?" Barakus chimed in, seeking personal profit.

The robed man chuckled beneath his hood. "Those weapons you found in the dungeon? Tinker toys compared to what I can provide. TRUST ME…you will not go unpaid for this task…"

And with that, he was gone, taking the illusion of the throne with him.

"I didn't even get my advance…" Illonel deadpanned, though honestly overrun with greed.

"Well…how the hell do we get an audience with the Duke?" Celathiel asked, looking around the room for an answer. Behind him, Sic was toying with his new robe – the symbol on the back of his garment was exactly the same size as the mysterious coin he had found in the dungeon – after a bit of experimentation, he slid the coin into the spot on the back of the robe and it promptly vanished into the cloth with a satisfying click. Feeling around, he could tell it was still there, just invisible – pulling it off and then replacing it, he ran his fingers around it as the two hands of the 'clock' began to move – with them, the hands of the individual compasses adorning the interior of the hood began to move. It was a bit much to try to decipher now; Sic resolved to let a properly trained magical appraiser take a look at it later, as he slid it over his head.

Krougu sat on his bed, already dressed and ready to leave the inn. "So…does anyone mind a little break from the action? Maybe a few weeks in town to brush up on some skills? Shopping? Food?"

Furrius and Barakus heard the last word and immediately agreed to the suggestion.

"Two weeks?" Illonel proposed. "And then we hunt down the Duke?"

Reaching a general consensus, the group split and left room fourteen, heading out into Suffolk – glad that, if nothing else, a much deserved reward was in their future.


	6. Chapter VI: Poking Around Town

CHAPTER VI: POKING AROUND TOWN

Krougu darted around the town like a child playing tag – hiding behind barrels of water, diving into piles of hay and flattening himself against walls, he did everything in his power to stealthily find another rogue he could learn from – or steal from. Eventually, after a few attempts, he spied a short, stubby man in a tattered, black cloak. Krougu tried his best to follow him through town – rouges were typically admired for their tracking skills and stealth, and this newcomer was no exception. Giving Krougu the slip several times, they finally reached the city limits where Krougu decided to give up the chase. It wasn't worth getting led into a trap by some raggedy little bastard, he finally said to himself.

"Probably doesn't even have a copper…" he grumbled to himself as he headed back to town. He crossed one of Suffolk's beautiful rivers as he came upon the TWINN. An odd name for any building, he soon realized that it was a sister site to the Three Winds Inn – apparently, the inn had become so big that the needed to expand – it was the innkeeper's idea of a 'cute joke' to call it the 'TWINN'. Krougu just rolled his eyes as he walked back toward town, his eyes shifting around, always searching vigilantly for a stray piece of copper…

Meanwhile, Barakus shared a large meal with Furrius in the inn. After reaching their fill, Barakus decided to sleep up in room fourteen while Furrius went off in search of Celathiel – sure enough, he found the sorcerer with the bard, Sic.

"Well, we're on hiatus for two weeks…feel like making some gold while we're here?" Sic proposed. Furrius and Celathiel agreed to help the gnome make some money. As he set up a small stand where he could play his guitar, Furrius shot around to crowds and convinced them into coming to watch the show – eventually, his job was nothing more than to provide support by clapping, getting the crowd excited and keeping away riff-raff. Celathiel concentrated and cast a beautiful round of prestidigitation spell effects as Sic plucked away at his instrument.

Lights of all colors shot around the makeshift stage as the bard played in unison, making the commoners who had come to watch gape in awe. When the set was finished, they had made over eighty gold altogether. "Not bad, eh gents?" Sic asked, tossing a sum of the overall taking to his partners.

Over the course of the two weeks, Furrius procured himself a new punching dagger while his comrades stocked up on simple supplies – torches, lanterns, some new weaponry. Illonel had shown an interest in crossing classes – already a proficient fighter, he wished to have some of the more powerful elements of a wizard, and attempted to join the local wizards guild. As he stepped into the room across town, he noticed several skilled wizards dueling, teaching each other spells…he longed for that kind of acceptance, though, as an elf, he was not granted it from the humans of the guild.

"Can't I just…" he bargained.

"No. Get out, ya freak…" one of the larger wizards commanded while Illonel poked around the school. Dejectedly he headed outside, only to run into three wide-eyed, grinning youths.

"What's amatta, old Elgar bein' a pain in the ass again? Sorry 'bout that, guy…some o' the wizards just don't like elves…sure ya dealt with it before…" the tall, dark skinned male said. "Name's Stev. Emily and Karl – we're trainin' to be wizards, too…"

Illonel's eyes narrowed slightly as he focused on the two boys and lady wizards – they seemed genuinely intrigued by him, if for nothing else than his different race.

"I just want to know some cantrips…nothing spectacular…I'd be willing to pay for your services…"

"We…can teach you whatever we learn after classes each day…I mean…" Emily started to suggest.

"Yeah, it'd be good practice for us. Whaddya think, Stev?" Karl asked.

Pretending to think it over, Stev clapped Illonel on the shoulder. Though the human wizards were all teenagers, they seemed strong…and Illonel would take any training he could acquire.

"Sure thing, guy! And don't worry 'bout payment…bein' able to tell me mum that I'm trainin' an elf will be prize enough!"

After several rigorous days of training, Illonel was proficient in all the cantrips of a wizard. Seeking to move on with the quest, he and Celathiel approached the innkeeper of the Three Winds.

"Does the Duke ever come around here?" Illonel asked.

"Oh, sure. He likes to do tours of the town…really proud of it, he is…we'll, he'd hafta be…anyway, he's got this massive golden carriage pulled by white horses. You'll know 'em when ya see 'em – they're almost fake lookin', like their hooves are painted black or something," the innkeeper divulged. "Now that I think of it, maybe they are…"

"Do you know when he's coming back around?" Celathiel asked, hoping to catch him sooner rather than later.

"Dunno, mate. It's a crap-shoot. Could be ten minutes, could be a month. He does have a lot on his plate…I mean, he is the DUKE…"

"Yeah, thanks for the tip…" Illonel said, quickly walking out of the room. Celathiel decided to try to gather more information on the Duke's whereabouts as he casually walked along the dusty roads of Suffolk. Soon, he came across a large alchemy shop, bearing a broken glass window in the front.

After entering the shop, he staked out a spot behind a rack of potions and watched the shoppers head up to the counter – the bearded alchemist smiled sweetly as he sold each and every potion brought to him – for double the marked price. Each peon and peasant graciously accepted it as fact, however; the only one that seemed to find the practice odd was Celathiel. The charming shopkeep was indeed manipulative…the prices were marked on a chalkboard above his head. It would take quite a story to charge a silver for a potion that only cost five copper…

"Hey! What do you think you're doing? I saw everything you just did! You owe that woman five copper!" Celathiel called out the shopkeep.

He sneered, looking down from his pedestal at the sorcerer. "Good concentration, lad. But…the townsfolk here don't seem to mind. See, I'm sure ya noticed my shop's been vandalized recently, eh?" he said, gesturing toward the broken window out front.

"That doesn't give you the right to charge double for sleeping draughts and anti-itch powders…" Celathiel continued, trying to be civil.

"No…no, but you see, I was robbed of over FIFTY potions, lad…well, at least fifty, I know that…I don't keep inventory of potions…I mean, you know how long it takes to make a potion! Of course ya don't…well, first, ya gotta boil the contents in a golden kettle, then they need to sit and stew for weeks! Sometimes, even months! It's a long, arduous process, my boy…and the Duke was simply devastated when his order was stolen…so he's enacted a slight inflation to help me get back to work…"

Celathiel's interest was piqued. "The Duke? He buys potions here?"

"He buys potions here…man! He ordered fifty of 'em! All stolen by the dragon!"

The sorcerer laughed openly as he looked at the hole in the window – if a dragon had come to steal the goods, the entire front of the shop would have been ripped off…the shop would have been burned to cinders.

"I'm tellin' ya…it was a dragon. But it was odd…like, only seven or eight feet tall…but it spit fire! Stood on two legs, too…weirdest thing I ever saw. Look, I got customers, if you don't believe me, check the town's records department across the river," he said, ushering Celathiel out the door. At the town's records department, Celathiel hit another brick wall.

"Oh, potion robbery incident reports? Yeah, I can get you those reports…" a fat hag behind the desk squeaked nasally. "It'll take…oh, about six to eight weeks, is that good for you?"

The young sorcerer closed his eyes with frustration. "No…" he said, leaving the department to meet back in room fourteen. The two weeks they had agreed on were almost up; they needed to decide a course of action.

"Chase the dragon," Barakus said after Celathiel brought his five acquaintances back up to speed.

"Where there are baby dragons, there are generally larger dragons. I vote against…" Illonel said.

Krougu chimed in, attempting to defend Barakus' motives. "I'm inclined to agree with Barakus. We find the Duke's potions, we have a free audience with him, we casually ask about the head mage…"

"What about the head mage?" Furrius said, shaking his head vigorously. He really needed to pay more attention during those long, boring sermons that the robed man gave…

"Yes, but what if that's all it turns out to be? We give him the potions, and he sends us on our way? Then it was a waste…and, might I add, I don't feel like being crushed beneath the clawed talons of a dragon…"

"Dragon…" Barakus insisted, gripping his dagger tightly.

"Barakus, the group has surmised-" Furrius attempted to reason with his friend.

"That you are STUPID," Illonel finished his sentence for him.

"Fuck you," Barakus shot back, slouching back in his chair. He idly spun his dagger on his leg, now knowing that he wouldn't get to plunge it deep into the heart of a baby dragon anytime soon…

"Guys, I think it's a half-dragon. Two legs, breathes fire, scaly skin…doesn't sound like a baby dragon to me…" Sic said, perusing his deep knowledge of nature's creatures. "Even so, I also vote against death."

"Then it's settled – the diplomats of the group can go to the Duke's manor and request a meeting with him – it couldn't hurt, right?" Furrius suggested.


	7. Chapter VII: Manors, Manors

CHAPTER VII: MANORS, MANORS…

Celathiel, Sic and Furrius walked the cobblestone path leading up to the Duke's manor at the top of a hill in Suffolk – it was quite a sight. As they got closer, what looked like old-fashioned log-style walls gave way to the illusion of metallic paneling just formed to look like logs. Huge hedges were teetering around them as they neared the guard tower one-hundred feet in front of the three-story manor.

"Halt! What can I do for you gentlemen?" the guard asked cordially.

"Long days and pleasant nights to you, good sir…we seek council from the Duke of Suffolk…" Celathiel began to prod, hoping to win over the brutish looking guard.

"Oh…gee, he isn't in right now…he's out on a tour of the town in his carriage…surprised you missed it, actually."

"Do you know when he'll be returning?" Sic prodded.

"Hmmm…no idea. Could be anytime…I mean, it all depends on where he stops to talk and how long he chats for, you know?"

Furrius suddenly lost all restraint and stupidly looked up at the guard tower, the sun seeping into his elvin eyes. "So do you know of any staff changes in the manor recently? Perhaps…the head mage?"

The guard looked cautiously below as he slowly shook his head. "Never heard of no 'head mage'…what the hell is that, anyway? Naw…I'm just a guard…the Duke fires and hires people all the time…what's the issue?"

"Ah, nothing, nothing sir. We appreciate your time…" Celathiel tried to cover Furrius' mouth as he shuffled backwards, but it did little good – Furrius continued his 'diplomatic inquiry'.

"Must be pretty hot up there, my friend…can we buy you a mug of ale?"

"Uh…not while I'm on the job…" he replied, growing more skeptical by the second…

If looks could kill, Sic and Celathiel would have not only drawn and quartered Furrius, but tossed each quarter into separate vats of acid, poured them over a cliff in the mouths of ravenous sharks, and fired successive rounds of magic missiles into the aquatic creatures' stomachs. As Celathiel ushered the clumsy cleric away, Sic managed to glean that the Duke may have been examining the smithy's shop that day. As they trod down the hot path, Sic and Celathiel knocked Furrius back and forth like a pinball.

"That's diplomacy? WHAT ABOUT THE HEAD MAGE! You can't just ask that!" Celathiel berated him.

"Can we buy you a MUG OF ALE? A guard! Of the most respected figure in town? A MUG OF ALE?" Sic screamed, smacking Furrius in the back of the head.

"Hey! How do you get answers to questions without asking them? Sheesh…"

As the three 'diplomats' met with Krougu, Barakus and Illonel in front of the TWINN, the six of them headed off toward the smithy on the guard's tip. Sure enough, in front of the large weapon shop stood a horse-drawn carriage of solid gold…it almost made the treasure seekers drool with delight…

"How good are you at hiding, Krougu? Maybe stow away in the Duke's cart and find out that way?" Furrius proposed.

"Not that good…besides, what would I do once I got in – 'ta-daa! So, what about the head mage?' Forget about it…"

The smithy shop had two sections – one, a small storefront, was an outdoor desk that had various wares on display. Behind that, however, was a large warehouse that contained hundreds, nay, thousands of weapons. It was clear that the Duke's militia was outfitted from the smithy as they navigated the large storage facility behind the main shop.

Up ahead stood a prestigious human, a flowing cape around his neck, chatting affably with the smithy. Flanking him were four armed guards, each a member of his personal militia. They looked in all directions, keeping close watch on anyone daring to get too close to the Duke.

"What now? Think we can take them?" Celathiel asked about the guards.

Now it was time to Furrius to smack him around. "We're not kidnapping the Duke!"

"Why not?" Celathiel asked, as Barakus rapped the blunt edge of his greataxe on his head.

"Do we have a net? Do we have ANYTHING remotely close to what is necessary to kidnap a person? What a stupid idea…" the cleric yelled in a whisper, spittle drenching the sorcerer's ear and cheek.

Furrius could have sworn he heard Celathiel cough 'head mage' into his hand, causing the four companions to laugh at the cleric.

"Look, let's just go up and ask him for a private meeting…" Krougu said.

"How many Dukes have you met in your lifetime, pal? Ain't no way we're just waltzing up and getting a meeting…but I do know of another way to get his attention…" Sic said, removing his guitar from his bag.

Celathiel and Furrius caught on to the plan immediately. Illonel, Krougu and Barakus stood back, their hands itching to draw their weapons in case of an emergency.

Prestidigitation coming through in a pinch once again, Sic's initial strum reverberated off of all the walls in the smithy warehouse. Lights of purple and gold flashed, illuminating the performers.

"Ladies and gentlemen…Duke of Suffolk…I present Sic, the amazing bard and his band of merry travelers!" the cleric declared. After a rousing rendition of "O, The Wee Lands of Nottingshire", the bard, cleric and sorcerer bowed low to the Duke. Surprisingly enough, he seemed impressed – the entire room was filled with applause and cheering (though, some of it was from Celathiel's spell, it did help to 'sell' him on their talent) as the Duke stepped forward to the six travelers.

"Splendid…quite a show, I must say. You simply must play at my upcoming ball…" the Duke said regally. "Though, you must dress this one more…appropriately…" he said, staring at Barakus. The barbarian smiled widely, perfectly aware that his appearance pissed off the Duke; he didn't care in the slightest. His rags were reminders…reminders of a time long gone.

Furrius felt a strange sensation in his throat as he tried to ask the Duke directly about the head mage; all that came out of his mouth was 'myrrggh…'.

Shaking off the cleric's strangely inarticulate display, the Duke nodded as the guards flanked him, leading him out of the smithy. "I shall send for you…"

"Room fourteen at the Three Winds Inn, sire…" Illonel informed him, and without another word, he was gone. The six of them celebrated that night, turning in a bit later than they had planned, though their cheeks were red with delight and bellies full of delicious liquor.

As they awoke the next morning, a loud rapping on the door raised Krougu to his feet. After opening the door, the groggy friends saw two armed guards staring seriously into the room.

"Seven days – we shall send back with a carriage to escort you to the ball, on the behest of the Duke of Suffolk," one of them said, and immediately after he said 'Suffolk', they turned and left, leaving the groggy Krougu in the doorway.

That day and the following two were spent practicing – Furrius managed to string together some impressive anecdotes and outright lies about the band's history as Celathiel improved Sic's show in the streets of Suffolk. Illonel had even joined the group – by casting ghost sound, he was able to trick onlookers into thinking he was playing an invisible lute of some kind; it was just the type of magical display that made the group so popular over the few days they spent practicing. By the fifth day, people actually sought out the group – between their fancy shows and the fact that they would be playing for the Duke in a few days time, they became quite popular, indeed.

"I think we've practiced enough…" Illonel said through a mouthful of meat one evening at a table in one of the local taverns. "I'm ready to do this…"

"Soon, soon…just another day…" Celathiel assured him.

"You know, if we have a day to spare, I'd like to get this cloak checked out by someone in town…see if it has any magical properties or whatnot…"

Barakus, Krougu and Furrius continued to eat silently as Illonel stayed Sic and Celathiel with a single gesture of his hand. He left the table and didn't return for almost half-an hour. As he sauntered back into the room, he sat down with a smug look on his face.

"My friend Emily – you know, the wizard whose been teaching me cantrips? – knows of such a place. A…kind of exclusive mage shop, outside of town. It's past the rural land, way over the river…she said it's visible 'most days'…whatever that meant…" he explained, poking at his cold meal as his companions finished theirs.

"Most days?" Sic asked, perplexed.

Illonel shrugged. "We'll check it out tomorrow. Hopefully, we'll find what you're looking for…"

Barakus smiled and began to shake with uncontrollable laughter as he looked at Furrius across the table. Slamming his massive palm onto the wooden surface, he merely said "head mage…idiot!" before he began to laugh outwardly. The rest of the table soon joined in, Furrius' cheeks turning red as his friends had their laughs at his expense…


	8. Chapter VIII: The Mystery of the Cloak

CHAPTER VIII: THE MYSTERY OF THE CLOAK

Illonel led the way through the rural district of town – small farms peppered the landscape as they passed the city limits of Suffolk. The newly trained wizard thumbed through the tome he had stolen; or rather, charmed his professor to steal for him. Emily regretted teaching Illonel the charm person spell, though the fighter was more than pleased at the results.

The path became studded with small rocks and broken twigs as they saw a large, gnarled tree in the distance. Tripping almost every other step, Furrius began to whine inconsolably.

"I don't see any friggin' mage shops out here…looks pretty desolate, in fact…"

Illonel too grew suspicious of Emily's story. "She said it was visible most days…I'm sure it has some sort of enchantment from preventing any old person from entering…"

The six travelers reached the gnarled tree – it was massive, reaching out almost ten feet in diameter. As they skillfully examined the roots and knots all over the tree, they suddenly felt a strange rumbling and creaking coming from all around them…

Instinctively, Krougu, Celathiel, Furrius and Barakus dove away from the tree in all directions; Sic and Illonel weren't as lucky. An odd sensation washed over the bard and the fighter/wizard…like they were being pummeled with various elements…wood…water…fire…metal…it all flashed through them, coursing through their less-than nimble bodies. What seemed like it would cause immense pain didn't; moments later, the two of them found themselves standing in the center of a meager shop, no more than ten feet in all directions with a rustic looking counter in front of them.

Outside, the four quick-thinking men marveled at what had just happened – with a stunning 'pop', a massive stone block burst into existence at the base of the tree – it didn't seem to have any doors or windows, but somehow, the friends could tell that Illonel and Sic were inside. Inside…or crushed beneath.

Sic knocked on the counter of the small hut – around him were many, many magical items of various natures. It was almost overwhelming…Illonel was careful not to touch anything, else risking incurring the shopkeep's anger… Mere seconds after Sic knocked on the counter, up rose a wise looking mage, donned in tattered robes. His beard grazed the top of his counter as he examined Illonel and Sic.

"Ah…visitors…not the most fleet of foot, are we gentlemen?" he joked.

"Not exactly…we were searching for a powerful mage shop…a wizard in town told us we could find it here…" Sic explained. Looking over at Illonel, the fighter silently instructed the bard to keep the details involving Emily scarce; was he actually looking out for her?

"Ooh, my yes. This is indeed the mage shop you seek…quite a fine establishment. I supply those closest to the Duke, himself…my, yes…you're certainly lucky to be able to find my services…now let's see if you can afford them…" he said, raising an eyebrow. After Sic and Illonel exchanged worried looks, the mage continued, "I kid, lads. What do you seek?"

Pulling the cloak off of his body, Sic showed it to the mage. "Actually, I was wondering if you could appraise this cloak…it was…" he started, but Illonel coughed violently, warning the bard to keep his information vague. "It was a gift. Does it have any magical properties?"

The mage's eyes lit up. "Hmmm…interesting…quite beautiful craftsmanship…I'll have to take it for…two weeks?" he smiled innocently. "A meager two weeks is all I ask to examine such a fine piece of clothing…"

Sic furrowed his brow. "Do I have a guarantee of getting it back?"

"Indeed yes! I'd be a poor businessman if I couldn't guarantee that much, my boy!" he said, his slender fingers reaching out to the patterns on the cloak's hood. Remembering the coin situated in on the cloak's back, Sic awkwardly tried to slip it off before the clerk could take the piece of clothing…unfortunately, the mage was too quick; Sic lost the opportunity to retrieve the coin. He bit his lip and cursed silently in his head – he had no idea how the coin might come in handy, but he wouldn't be able to find out while it was in the mage's shop for two weeks; he knew that.

"Thanks. See you in two…" he said cautiously, gauging the clerk's excitement to be a little high for his liking. Turning to the where the door of the shop would be, he saw a sign that stated "push" almost twenty feet away.

But the room was tight; between he and Illonel, there couldn't be five spare feet in the entire shop. As his mind (or the mage) played tricks on him, Sic walked toward the door – it gradually got closer, though his feet never took a single step forward, as if he was on a massive treadmill. Pushing the door open, he spied outside and saw his friends laying in the grass, staring at the stone.

"Sic! You're alive!" Celathiel exclaimed. "How on earth-"

"I'll explain later," Sic said, returning to the room, leaving his comrades outside once more.

Illonel stared deeply into the clerk's face; as soon as he made the slightest mention of the Duke's head mage, the world whooshed around his and Sic's ears, immediately chucking them out of the mage shop. As they stood up on the grassy field, the shop disappeared.

The bard informed the others of the mage shop as they re-entered town and turned in for the night. As they awoke the next morning, the day of the Duke's ball, they happened upon two armed guards in the hallway outside room fourteen. Ushering them quickly to a large, covered carriage outside the inn, the six of them sat quietly until they pulled up behind the Duke's massive manor.

A huge set of black, metallic gates swung open to allow the carriage into the manor's service courtyard. There were guards everywhere; at one point, Sic and Barakus noticed that some of the guards had guards…it was quite an operation…the Duke obviously knew that he needed to keep himself protected at all times. As they disembarked the smooth carriage ride, they were almost forcefully dragged through the shoulder width corridors by the two guards. Twisting and turning, each wall lined with an endless amount of doors, even concentrating at their hardest proved impossible – they were hopelessly lost inside the labyrinth of the manor. Eventually, they happened upon a seemingly identical door to the hundreds they had already passed. Knocking a quick code, a gruff voice came through the other side of the door.

"My favorite drink is…" it inquired.

The guards on the side of the door with the travelers sighed. "Ale."

The door swung open and the guards briefly exchanged what looked like secret handshakes.

"You know, that's a really easy password to guess…"

"But it's true! What, am I gonna lie?"

"Who would know?"

"It's the PRINCIPLE of the thing! Jeez…" he said, indicating for the band to follow him. Much faster than they had reached the first door, they were upon a second; the guard opened it and allowed them inside the lavish dressing room.

"I'll be right out here if you need anything, sirs…make yourselves at home," he said, nodding slightly to the band. With that, he exited the room, closing the door behind him.

Across three walls of the room spread a lush looking couch, seemingly stuffed with feathers, or if not feathers, than clouds. Assuming the latter was quite impossible, Sic rested on the comfortable seats next to Illonel.

"Nice digs," Sic said. Illonel nodded his assent.

"Drinks?" Furrius said thirstily, eying the stocked bar across the opposite wall. Celathiel was the only one in the room to refuse – beautifully aged wines flowed a rich crimson into glasses for Illonel and Sic, while Krougu, Barakus and Furrius enjoyed a nice glass of foreign rum. The only other interesting thing about the room was a large, spotless mirror that took up the entire wall opposite the bar.

"My, my…you've made quite a name for yourselves. There are people in the ballroom positively chomping at the bit to see you play! I hope you've prepared something wonderful…" the Duke snorted, entering the room almost undetected. "Come; my guards will show you backstage…" he added, swishing his cape as he left their sight again.

After following the guards through several more slightly wider pathways, flanked on either side by two additional guards, of course, they found themselves in a small prep kitchen. Noticing it had been cordoned off by a tall, wide piece of cloth, they listened intently and heard hundreds of people milling about on the other side. A guard looked at Sic and said, "whenever you're ready, sirs…"

Taking a deep breath, Sic readied his guitar from his back. Illonel cracked his knuckles and Celathiel stretched his arms over his head. Furrius massaged his throat, clearing it with a series of disgusting gargling sounds… Off to the sides of the stage stood Krougu and Barakus, acting as 'guards' for lack of a better role. Nodding to his comrades, Sic stepped quickly out through the cloth curtain, staring hundreds of hungry, rich, beautiful people directly in the eyes.


	9. Chapter IX: Play It Again, Sic

CHAPTER IX: PLAY IT AGAIN, SIC

A shower of purple and gold sparks issued forth from all directions as the curtain rose – Celathiel's prestidigitation was becoming more impressive each and every time he used it. The audience hushed as Sic began playing wildly, infusing jokes with his music and making the party-goers eat right out of his hand.

Furrius took over as Sic rested his fingers, telling stories of how the band got together and how many lavish parties they had been to in the past. The audience could tell he was full of shit, but they just bit their lips until Sic began to play again. This time, Illonel joined him as Celathiel focused spotlights on Furrius, Illonel, Sic and himself…thin, white beams of light shot from nowhere to illuminate the players as the audience grew more awe-inspired by Illonel's performance –

By casting ghost sound once more, he was able to create the illusion of a lute in his hands (which he faked playing to further excite the audience). But that wasn't the end of it – casting a powerful silent image spell, Illonel split into four mirror images of himself, each acting like they were playing an invisible lute.

The audience went into an uproar, screaming and applauding as the song ended. Across the dimmed ballroom, Celathiel saw the Duke stand – he shifted the spotlights to him as he clinked his wine glass with a silver spoon.

"Fantastic, simply fantastic. Please – introduce yourselves!" he said, gesturing toward the band.

"I'm Furrius!" the silver haired cleric said, attempting to steal the spotlight. The audience made an audible groan…

"Celathiel," said the talented performer on the left, swishing his cape around his back and causing small sparks of color to pop around his head.

"Sic," said the gnome, bowing deeply with his guitar still in hand.

"We are Illonel," said the four images of the handsome elf simultaneously.

"Let the feast begin…come, gentlemen – sit and enjoy the feast!" he said joyously, indicating a table set for six on the opposite side of the ballroom.

As the band (complete with bodyguards) weaved through the crowd, they eventually reached their table and sat. From two doorways near the stage issued forth hundreds of waiters – each carrying a silver platter of food or drink. They arced around the room in premeditated 'paths', dropping food at tables that requested it. Delicious aromas attacked the friends' nostrils – elven sweet bread, sweet pastries, hunks of seasoned meats with glaze, pitchers of the finest wines in the county, rare vegetables that only grew in winter – it was certainly a feast. If one missed a platter, it would come back around in a few minutes time.

Piling food on his plate, Furrius waited until the waiters became less frequent…after most people had gotten their fill, they only traveled around the tables in figure eights, clearing dishes and glasses, refilling bowls of rice, freshening teacups…

"Anyone else want their food purified? There's no telling what could be in it…better cover our bases…" Furrius said, scooping Barakus' and Sic's dishes onto his while covering the process with a napkin.

"I'd rather not insult the Duke and his kitchen staff…" Illonel said, completely against Furrius' plan.

"Well, don't come to me if you're poisoned…"

"Paranoid much?" Krougu asked, tearing a mouthful of lamb off a roasted leg with his teeth.

"I'll pass too…I don't want to insult them and end up in the bad graces of those guards…" Celathiel said, peeking around the room. There were only a few guards, mostly centralized at the Duke's table.

After having their fill of the delicious (and pure) food, one of the waiters came by carrying a chair instead of a tray – dropping it at the head of the band's table. Moments later they realized whom it was for – the Duke intended to sit with them.

Many of the other attendees of the ball grew jealous of the attention the band was earning…the Duke simply fawned all over them.

"An exceptional show, once again gentlemen. You certainly make me proud of my choice to allow you to play the ball. Are you enjoying the feast?"

"Indeed, everything is delicious…" Furrius said, smiling softly at Sic and Barakus from the corner of his mouth. "Thank you."

"Not at all, lads…entertainers such as yourselves deserve it."

Suddenly, Barakus leaned forward in his seat and placed a hand on his greataxe, staring the Duke down as if he were his hunted prey.

"Is…there a problem?" the Duke asked everyone but Barkaus.

"No…NO…" Furrius said, digging at Barakus under the table with his foot. "Heh…you see, he is my traveling partner…we've developed a sort of bond that allows him to communicate without words…I can read him exceptionally well…" Furrius continued, attempting to use this as a springboard for conversation about the head mage.

"Read people? You wouldn't be reading ME…now would you? That's a might dangerous…" the Duke suspiciously asked, sitting rigidly in his chair.

"No! No, not at all…just Barakus…we're like brothers…he merely has an itch."

Barakus grunted softly and stood down, hands in his lap.

"I'm sure you've had that sort of…bond with those close to you in the past, no?" Furrius prodded the Duke.

"No."

"Your Excellency…would it be too much to ask for ten minutes of your time, perhaps to chat in private?" Illonel interjected, his elven eyes darting around the room, sensing many prying eyes and ears on their table.

"Now, my dear boy…I am the Duke, I am quite busy…what could be so important as to pull me away from my own ball?" he scoffed, staring deep into Illonel's soul.

The elven man looked around the table at his traveling partners – they had as much stake in this as he. Obviously, he knew Furrius' and Barakus' stand on the subject of the Duke. Celathiel gave him a non-committal smile as he looked his way…Sic shook his head during a cough. Krougu nodded softly as he said, "be truthful, Illonel."

"Sir, we need to speak of your head mage…or, rather…ex-head mage…" Illonel started. The Duke's eyes widened as he slid his chair back, rapidly retreating from the table.

"Oh, shit…" Celathiel said, his eyes growing in fear.

The Duke quickly walked to his table and whispered something into the ears of two of his guards. They stood and walked to two separate doors, leaving for a moment – seconds later, they were each flanked by more than ten guards apiece – all walking straight for the band's table.

"Oh, SHIT," everyone said in unison, preparing for the worst as thirty armed guards surrounded them. Some wore chain mail, some had leather, but most had a combination of the two. All of them had the circular symbols on their arms – a good amount of high ranking guards were sprinkled in the mix of underlings. They didn't appear cross, however…just disaffected… Moments later, the Duke burst through a section of guards and slammed his palms on the table, whispering to the entire group.

"We're not having this conversation here…" he said as he turned flippantly, the guards manhandling the band from their seats.


	10. Chapter X: Wyvhern's Betrayal

CHAPTER X: WYVHERN'S BETRAYAL

As they were ushered through the ballroom and back into the tight hallways of the manor, they felt the grip of the guards tighten from any form of non-compliance; Furrius tripped awkwardly as the guard held him by his arm painfully; Celathiel attempted to free his arm from the grip of his guard, to no avail.

After a few minutes of silent walking, they were dumped into the same dressing room they had been in before the show. "Wait for the Duke," one of the guards ordered, slamming the door as he left.

A collective sigh rang through the room as those with weaker constitutions tried to calm their rapidly beating hearts…it was quite a sensation to feel – near death while on your feet.

"I need a fucking drink…" the clumsy half-elf said to himself as he poured a shot of rum.

"Yeah, that's exactly what you need…" said the sarcastic sorcerer as he sat on the comfortable couch next to Barakus. "I don't think ANY of us should be drinking right now…"

Immediately after, arguably BECAUSE he had said it, Illonel, Sic and Krougu joined Furrius in a drink. Barakus scowled, cracking his knuckles against his knees. A few moments later the Duke burst into the room, bearing a harried expression. Sitting down, his face contorted in a sort of worried, fatherly expression.

"Travelers…oh, the duties of a Duke are never done. I'd give it all up to be a traveler like you…" he said, genuinely envious of the group. Furrius rubbed his scars beneath his shirt and nodded, smiling knowingly to himself. _"If you only knew…"_ he thought.

"Let me speak, gentlemen. First – a question – you know of the robed figure that claims to have been my head mage?" he inquired.

"Yes…we've met him on several occasions…" Krougu said.

"Have you been in contact with his magic?"

Furrius' eyes grew serious. "I…I was tortured for days by him…" he said, raising his shirt to show the Duke his scars.

Still bearing a suspicious glint in his eyes, the Duke shook his head. "I suppose I should explain. Years ago, when this town was still a fledgling village, I hand picked a group of powerful wizards and sorcerers…they comprised a 'mage guild' of the highest degree. We worked in synergy with one another, helping the town to prosper from magic and natural means alike. I'm sure you've seen the two rivers that run through Suffolk?"

The group nodded. "Well, they are artificially constructed…it took the power of nearly all of our guild to redirect the rivers through town…but it is quite an impressive display, no?" he asked, momentarily losing his grave disposition for a more proud and boastful one. "At the point where they intersect is where the issue occurred. A large magical sphere - a reservoir - was constructed by the man who was my head mage. It cleansed water as it flowed through…an orb of a purely magical nature. Quite impressive…"

He took a moment to sip some of the wine left on the bar. He smiled when he saw the type it was – his favorite.

"After the construct of the reservoir, people started dying from a mysterious poison…it took us two weeks to trace it back to the reservoir…my head mage had tainted the water supply…some kind of sick, devious joke…he killed 20,000 of my citizens!" his face began to fill with blood as he grew angrier, his cheeks almost popping from his face. "He governed the mage guild…how foolish it was to put him in charge…"

"Can you tell us his name?" Illonel gently pried.

"Wyvhern." There was a long pause in the dressing room after that; the Duke stared into a glass pitcher of water that sat on the bar for a few moments while the group digested the information.

Celathiel nodded to his friends – he was personally sure that the Duke was telling the truth…but he had been fooled before…

Suddenly, Sic spoke. "I don't believe it. Why would he ask us why he was fired then?"

"He…asked you that? 20,000 deaths isn't enough of an answer?"

"We were sent-" Furrius started, but Illonel cut him off.

"By someone. To find out the nature of Wyvhern's dismissal from your cabinet."

The Duke chewed on his tongue for a moment. "I have a very hard time believing that you've met Wyvhern…I sentenced the man to death, but still he eludes me and my men to this day…and you walk into town and not only meet him, but survive an altercation? Unbelievable…"

"I've already shown you my scars…" Furrius protested.

"Could have been caused by anything sharp, dear boy…"

Illonel remembered the letter opener he was nearly impaled with back in room fourteen – Wyvhern had thrown it like a dagger. "We mean you no harm," he said, procuring the small, silver knife. "Wyvhern threw this at me. Surely, you know of the mark he leaves on items and people…"

"All too well…" said the Duke, examining the knife. "But this…this is too…"

Illonel sighed. "Perhaps this will be sufficient, then?" he said, handing over the spiked chain that Wyvhern himself had handed over.

"No…the letter opener will suffice…XORN!"

A large, oafish guard burst through the door – he had many ringlets on his armor.

"Yes, sire?"

"Examine this for me, would you?" he said, handing over the letter opener.

"It is a silver letter opener, sir."

"Examine it for magical properties!" the Duke snapped. Xorn hastily retreated from the room, letter opener in hand.

"We'll get back to you soon enough with the results of the test…I hope, for your sake, that you speak the truth…" the Duke said, leaving the group in the room alone once more.

"Let's get out of here…" Krougu said, grabbing the doorknob.

"Yeah. We've gotten what we've come for…" Illonel added, stepping up behind Krougu.

"Well, let's not be hasty…" Sic said, examining some rich looking liqueurs. Stuffing a nice bottle into his pack, Barakus followed…

"True, we have been invited to the ball of the century…let's enjoy it! C'mon…let's stick around for a little while…" Furrius asked the group.

Back on in the ballroom, the tables had been cleared away to make a dance floor – on the stage, a full sized band played wonderful, upbeat music.

"Care to dance?" Celathiel asked a pretty looking elven lady.

She looked over his shoulder nervously; eventually she looked back at him and noncommittally said, "sure."

Sic, Barakus and Furrius toasted at the punchbowl as Celathiel attempted to sweep the girl off her feet – unfortunately for the half-elf, halfway through their first dance, she squirmed out of his grasp, grabbed Illonel by the hand and pulled him backstage, behind the curtain.

"Ohhh!" Furrius said, smiling wide.

"Lady knows what she wants!" Sic added, laughing openly in Celathiel's shocked face.


	11. Chapter XI: Ominious Obelisk

CHAPTER XI: OMINOUS OBELISK

Behind the curtain, Illonel sat down and crossed his slender legs, staring intently into the elven girl's eyes. Occasionally a waiter would shuffle past, but they were so enamored with Illonel's performance, they just smiled and rushed on.

"What's wrong, Emily? Slow down…" he started as she began to blubber uncontrollably.

"I'm…I'm sorry Illonel. I'm just worried of him…" she said, controlling her emotions with a pronounced swallow.

"Who?" Illonel asked – surely, she meant one of the other two mage apprentices that had trained him in wizard cantrips…he had recognized her as one of his tutors straightaway upon entering the ballroom.

"Stev. He's…he's contracted the sickness, I believe…" she said, getting so quiet she was barely above a whisper.

"The sickness? The tainted water sickness? How?"

"I don't know…I'm merely an apprentice…but the new head mage hasn't been appointed yet, so long after Wyvhern's termination…leaving us quite vulnerable. I can't get an audience with the Duke…it's impossible…"

A waiter flew by, stopping long enough to get Illonel's autograph.

"That was nice of you…" Emily smiled through her tears – she was exceptionally pretty, even though her small amount of dark makeup ran down her cheeks.

Illonel smiled back and raised a cloth, wiping off one of her cheeks tenderly. "I just wrote 'back to work, lad'." They smiled and stared into each other's eyes for only a second before the smiled vanished from Emily's face. Not needing any further prodding, Illonel stood up.

"Come. I'll ask my traveling group to help Stev," he said triumphantly.

"Illonel…are these people your…friends?" Emily asked, finally standing and putting a hand on his shoulder.

Illonel shrugged, blinked his eyes deeply and walked out of Emily's reach. "Could be."

"Should we tell someone? Can we meet with the Duke again?" Sic asked after Illonel introduced both Emily and her situation.

"No, we've tried – the Duke has left the mansion…or at least, so say the guards," Illonel retorted.

"Then we should just scream out that the water poisoning is back! I mean, send the crowd into a panic and disappear in the commotion!" Celathiel mused as the group headed for the exit.

"Yeah!" Furrius chimed in, fully swayed by Celathiel's idea. "No faster way to spread the word than through mass panic!"

Illonel, Barakus, Sic, Emily and Krougu looked at the two half-elves as if they were genetically fused at the ear and covered in thick, orange fur.

"I swear on life itself that if you do that, you won't be walking out of here a whole man," Illonel whispered to them.

"You'd never see it coming…" Krougu said, fingering his shortsword.

"Okay! Fine, jeez…" Celathiel gave up.

"We'll just tell the first watchtower of guards we see…" Emily added, raising an eyebrow at the man she had allowed herself to dance with. "Idiot," she added very quietly under her breath.

"I think she's the head mage…" Celathiel whispered conspiratorially to Furrius. Illonel proceeded to punch the headstrong magician in his bony nose.

"Ready, sirs? Oh…and madam," the guard near the dressing room asked, escorting them through the maze of doors outside to the carriage.

"Where to?" the carriage driver asked gruffly. "Been rented for the day, mates. Where ya headed?"

Emily nodded at Illonel and he spoke up. "Can you take us five miles outside town? Heading east?"

"Five miles, eh? Outta town…hmmm…"

Furrius and Illonel both immediately shot out two sums of gold; Furrius merely offered one piece, while Illonel offered ten.

"Do I get all eleven, then?" he grinned and flashed a mouth full of yellow flecks he called 'teeth'. As they approached the first guard post, Furrius hastily popped his head out of the moving carriage door.

"The water sickness is back! Just thought you'd like to know!"

The bewildered guard took the information to heart, but still shot them a bewildered look as they passed, tearing up the windy road out of town.

After about twenty minutes of silent travel, they approached the area Emily had specified. "This is the concentration site of the spell that controls the reservoir. Here I think we'll get an answer. I…I've never been here before…I just know of it through Wyvhern and the other high mages."

"We'll be back – stay here and you get the other half," Illonel said, thrusting six gold pieces at the driver.

"I'll stay up the hill…no offense. I won't go nowhere! I promise!" he pleaded as the cleric of death and magic shot him a stern look.

"Fine, go," Illonel concluded. The carriage took off, stopping nearly five-hundred feet away.

"I sure hope he doesn't leave us out here…" Furrius said to Illonel, walking away from the spooked driver.

"Eh. If he does, we're five gold richer."

Surveying the area, the seven adventurers were astonished by the sheer scope of things: a massive, black obelisk towered in front of them in the center of a dirty clearing. It rose like a massive, manmade hill. Not perfectly circular, the four sides of the oval pillar each had a large circular pattern like on their cloaks – each with a different arrangement of hands. One had both hands up; one pointed to the right and up; the left and up; the right and down. It wasn't a code for anything they understood – it didn't seem to be a clock, for the hands didn't operate the same way; it didn't seem to be a compass, for there was more than one hand on each face.

"Well look what I've found…" Krougu said, pulling back a bush about twenty feet directly behind the right and up clock face. Underneath the overgrowth stood a miniature replica of the massive pillar – small, but nearly the same. Surely enough, in each of the four directions the faces pointed, there was a smaller obelisk, surrounding the center one. Each of the smaller stones only had two faces – one facing toward the center stone, one facing away.

Emily reached forward toward a small obelisk, her finger almost grazing the small circle – the smaller obelisk's symbols lacked the hands that the center symbols had…

A small set of hands started to show up as Emily touched the spot – but nothing else happened. The group crowded around her as Barakus and Sic stepped back, looking out for anything out of the ordinary…which was pretty much everything, at this point.

"Maybe…" Illonel said, clutching his cloak with the symbols.

"Let me wear it – please," Emily said, not waiting for an answer. She tossed the cloak on and as she touched the symbol this time, a set of hands stuck. She rotated the protruding disk with a light graze of her finger until it 'clicked', settled into the stone and the hands disappeared.

"Doesn't work on the big ones…" Krougu said, rubbing his hands across the center obelisk.

"Well, looks simple enough," Furrius said, putting on his cloak beside Celathiel. "We just have to do that to the rest of them." He stood across from Emily and waited for the signal as Celathiel stood on the other side of the obelisk.

"Guys, good idea?" Sic stammered, looking at the large stone pillar. "I mean, this is magic we don't know, shouldn't be tampering with…"

"Stop," Barakus commanded, a hint of pleading in his voice.

"Illonel," Furrius said, pulling the elven warrior out of Emily's earshot, "do you trust this girl?"

Illonel pursed his lips and nodded, walking over to Barakus to borrow his cloak. The two cloak-less members of the entourage stood well past the smaller obelisks. In turn, Furrius, Celathiel and Illonel turned their symbols, each wearing a cloak.

After the inner symbols were finished, they began on the outside ones.

"Wait…they're opposite…maybe we should do them in opposite order?" Celathiel posed.

"Or opposite direction…" Illonel thought, adding complexity to the mix.

"Or opposite ANYTHING! Let's just go with opposite order!" Furrius shot, growing impatient.

And they did – Illonel turned his outside symbol until it clicked – upon doing so, the ground at their feet rumbled. Small pebbles and chunks of the obelisk shook free and pelted the ground with soft clacking noises. Ever so slightly, the giant symbols in the center of the obelisk started to rotate – to the right. The symbols themselves didn't move – the obelisk itself was moving.

"Either we're doing something really wrong or really, really right…" Celathiel said as he slid his into place. The obelisk moved much more this time, almost a foot. Furrius could notice small cracks forming in the rock, and the center symbols seemed to have light shining behind them…but behind rock? Light could shine through parchment…but not rock as thick as an obelisk, surely…

They had to steady themselves with the small pillars after Furrius finished his sequence – the rocking of the ground became fierce and unwieldy. Emily finished her side as the obelisk finished rotating – each of the giant symbols spun individually and disappeared into the rock, which was now twisting in sections, as if it was constructed of two completely different stone buildings. After twisting for an entire quarter rotation, they saw four identical hollowed pathways into the thirty-foot obelisk on each side, crisscrossing in the center. Furrius awkwardly waved at Celathiel on the opposite side as Krougu began to step forward.

"Wait," he said, igniting a fist-sized stone with a light spell. He tossed it into the center of the pillar, illuminating the dark center – all they could truly make out was another short pillar with a flat top. Sizing it up, Krougu, Illonel, Furrius, Emily and Celathiel entered the cramped area.

"We're gonna keep watch…" Sic said, climbing up to Barakus' shoulders. "Hey, I could get used to this…"

Barakus laughed, shaking the gnome on his shoulders in the process.

"More symbols? C'mon…" Furrius said, looking at the center pillar – atop its flat surface were grooved indentations, forming four circles, all hands pointing up and down. Behind each symbol on the walls were four large symbols, identical to the ones on the outside of the obelisk. The cleric reached up and began to move the large symbol to match the ones in the center podium – as he did so, the clock on the back of his cloak moved with it.

"Look at that!" Krougu exclaimed, fascinated by the magic at work.

"What?" Furrius turned around, thoroughly ruining the display. Illonel showed him as the four of them matched each wall to the center.

"Shit, shit, shit!" Sic said as he bobbed up and down on Barakus' shoulders – the doorway into the obelisk had begun to close a second before, after the sequence was completed…with a mighty kick against a small pillar, Barakus vaulted himself and Sic into the closing doorway, meeting his friends in the center just before the portal snapped shut.

Celathiel helped Sic stand, brushing his vest off. "Nice of you to join us. Welcome to the creepy obelisk."


	12. Chapter XII: The Innards of the Obelisk

CHAPTER XII: THE INNARDS OF THE OBELISK

As the seven misfits crowded around the dais in the center of the room, the hands on each of the four clocks began to extend, breaking the limits of their circular confines – eventually, a large 'x' slashed across the entire face of the dais. Before they had a chance to wonder what was happening, it began to spin…swirling…lower and lower as the dais sunk into the ground, leaving a rickety ladder in its wake.

"Oh, no…no, no, no! Further down into the hole?" Sic complained.

"You see another way out?" asked Krougu, already descending the ladder to the bowels of the obelisk.

A small, earthy room like the ones at the very bottom of Wyvhern's dungeon greeted them below. The walls proved hard; they were stiff to the touch but still clearly made of soft, loamy earth. The dirty floor didn't prove exciting either, but Sic snapped at the group.

"Well, here we are. In another little room that you're all probably going to search for hours on end! Well, you know what? Forget it! I'm opening the only door in the room. Right now! No searching, no ridiculous 'investigation' crap! It's time to take things at face value!" Sic said, barging through his friends as if they were large, fleshy doors. When he came to the only wooden door in the room, he yanked it open quickly, to be greeted by a rather unappealing sight.

A creature, at least seven feet tall, stood blocking the doorway from any who wished to enter. It wore tattered pants on his lower body, ripped and covered in dried, brown blood. Thick, coarse hair covered the entire body of the monstrosity; the patches beneath its doggish snout were caked with a disgusting, opaque drool. The fact that it was more muscular than Barakus made Sic whimper in the most inaudible way. The fact that it was flanked by two more creatures that looked identical made that whimper quite audible, indeed.

"You're not allowed to open doors anymore…" Krougu chided as a spear chucked by one of the beasts' cut right through Sic's shoulder. Illonel pulled back his bowstring and aimed a shot directly into the closest creature's throat – it gurgled and clutched at its neck, trying to remedy the intense pain.

Towering over his gnomish allies' shoulder, Illonel then put the farthest creature into a deep, magically induced sleep – it slumped to the floor in a furry heap of matted hair and drool-soaked fangs.

"All I wanted to do was open a friggin' door…and you had to be in the way, making me look like an asshole!" he grunted, slamming the hilt of his crossbow into the gurgling monster's face, knocking his right eye a few inches back into his head – the spear chucking monster couldn't decide which pain was worse, the arrow in his throat or his bloody eyeball.

"'Scuse me…" Furrius said, slinking past Sic who still blocked the only doorway into the earthen hallway. As he made it into the larger hallway, he steadied himself against the wall and took a swing with his mace, barely missing the creature's midsection. Retaliating, the creature slashed Furrius' already scarred back with his Morningstar.

Back at the doorway, Sic was paralyzed with anger and couldn't move to create a clear path into the room with the creatures – only Furrius had made it fully in, and that was only due to the monster's preoccupation with the arrow in his throat. Barakus and Krougu both tried desperately to slash the creature on either side of Sic, both missing as they tiptoed around the small bard.

Concentrating hard, Emily focused her mind and raised her hand – a dozen or more pink, crystalline shards shot out of her fingertips and embedded themselves in the monster that was awake at the end of the room. Her magic missile caused it to bellow in pain, a bellow which only grew more furious as Celathiel's magic missile, a set of two jagged black crystals, impaled his stomach.

"Enough of this – remind me to beat your ass for opening the door later, okay?" Illonel threatened Sic as he vaulted over his shoulders gracefully, spinning sideways over the head of the closest, wounded creature. Though it struggled with the arrow in its throat and his bleeding eye, it swung upwards and caught Illonel in the side with its Morningstar, heaving him into an awkward tumble into the floor.

Sic finally snapped out of it and jumped backwards, clearing the doorway – as he steadied his crossbow, a bolt shot out and satisfyingly impaled the creature's heart, felling it after a wicked battle. It landed with a thud as Krougu, Barakus and Celathiel finally entered the room to meet Illonel and Furrius.

The sleeping creature awoke as Illonel hovered above it – in a nimble display, it jumped to its feet and spat in Illonel's face, swinging its Morningstar overhead threateningly.

"Watch it, I got him!" Furrius called from across the room – with a twang from his crossbow, a bolt landed squarely in the earthen wall - to his right, almost twenty feet away from his intended target. "Let's try this again…" he said, quickly firing another bolt…into the already dead creature near the doorway. "Well, son-of-a-bitch! I am all thumbs today!"

Barakus' right eye changed colors rapidly as he thought about his options…suddenly, he charged at the creature suffering from the magic missile wounds and attempted to slice it with his greataxe; a retaliatory jab in his stomach from the monster told him it was a bad idea, as he fell to the ground…

Emily shrieked audibly as she watched Barakus slump to the ground across the hallway – with a mighty summoning of pink shards, she ripped the creature who had felled the sensitive barbarian apart, piece by piece. The only remaining creature sniffed intently, growling as his fangs dripped with saliva. "Don't move, Illonel…"

This time, it was Celathiel – firing his crossbow proved even more worthless than Furrius' attempt; a bolt actually stuck into the back of Illonel's neck.

"Oh, crap…sorry! Sorry!" Celathiel dropped his crossbow, holding out his hands as a piece offering as Illonel turned around, flames burning in his eyes.

"You motherfu-" he started, but was silenced by a squelch and a thud – the final monster had been decapitated in one blow by a triumphantly standing Barakus.

Sic, Furrius and Celathiel all claimed a Morningstar from the battle; Krougu, Illonel and Barakus each walked off with javelins. Everything else on the creatures was either in too poor shape to use, or covered in disgusting hair and drool. The hallway was just like the first room they had descended into, though a bit longer and less wide. A set of doors stood at the opposite end, but the group decided a bit of rest was in order before heading deeper into the obelisk.

Returning to the small room with the ladder, they unfurled their bedrolls and prepared for a good night's sleep. Celathiel immediately lay down; attempting to regain his spells...he had used them all in their last battle…

During the fourth guard watch that night, Furrius peered down the hallway and saw a bit of light emanating from beneath the door at the opposite end of the hallway – two specks of black seemed to be moving back and forth, and Furrius immediately realized they were feet. Illonel looked closer…he discovered that they were indeed feet…feet that were pointing toward the door, ready to open at any time…as the doorway creaked slowly open, Illonel and Furrius realized they had no time to hide…

"Up, up!" Furrius whispered. "Get up! We've got more of 'em…" he said, shaking all of his comrades awake except Celathiel – when a sorcerer needs sleep in order to regain his spells, he better get that sleep…it didn't seem as though they'd even need him – how many more could there be?

As the four sleepy travelers awoke and assembled in the ladder room, the door burst open in the hallway, revealing the owner of the feet that Illonel and Furrius had spotted: a beast very similar to the hairy ones they had slain earlier, it had bits of flesh sagging all over its body - its teeth were yellow and decaying; huge, gaping holes were situated in vital portions of the beast…the bloody gore inside almost made the cleric throw up – Furrius and Illonel immediately had their hunches on what the creatures were.

"Undead…?" Illonel asked to Furrius in their slick, Elven tongue. Not entirely sure, Furrius surveyed the walking corpse and was inclined to agree. Furrius wished he had time to pray for Wee Jas' guidance. Illonel wished his friends would get dressed a little quicker…

The beast started through the door, but was halted in his tracks – a powerful arrow shot by the handsome elf ripped through the undead creature, taking a huge chunk of it along as it continued on into the dark room behind it. Another shot landed with a sickening thud in the creature's chest – it howled, leaving the arrow in the dirty, festering wound.

"Damn. We're gonna need some divine intervention shit, here…" Illonel said, slinging his bow around his shoulder. Furrius nodded knowingly and reached out, laying four fingers across the hilt of Illonel's newly drawn rapier. Calling on the powerful magic weapon spell he had been granted by his god, the once dull, grey rapier glowed with a beautiful golden sheen. As he swung it playfully, a small trail of light golden flecks followed, creating a dazzling display. As the undead beast lumbered forward, Illonel readied his magic rapier – and with a swing worthy of the finest swashbucklers on the seven seas, he sliced right across the face of the creature.

Slowly…disgustingly…the detached face of the beast slid off of the meaty, muscular maw it had left behind, slinking to a stop as it rested atop the arrow in its chest, flopping down like a horrid piece of abstract art. It recoiled as the air stung its skinless face, as Furrius and Illonel looked at each other worriedly.

"Okay, you can do your hair in the morning, gentlemen! We need some assistance!" Illonel yelled through clenched teeth over his shoulder – there was no answer from the dark, earthy foyer they had been sleeping in.

"Either they're dead, or we are…" Furrius said, his mace shaking in his hands to the point where it could do more good on the ground than in his grasp.

"Haven't you been in these situations before? Undead? Evil? All that crazy Wee Jas shit!" Illonel said as the beast aimed a crossbow at his torso from less than ten feet away.

"I…I don't know…I don't think I can handle something like this…" Furrius said, genuinely meaning it. He had faced some small creatures that his mentor, Gendal, had animated…rabbits and dogs, mostly…he felt stupid just remembering them when he compared them to the beast he was up against now.

A sharp twang echoed through the room as a crossbow bolt sailed by Illonel's head, nicking his temple and sticking into the earth behind him.

"Fine. I still got a few tricks up my sleeve…" he said, focusing with all his might to remember a spell that Emily had taught him…he dropped his tome to the ground and flipped the few written-on pages with his feet, pulling his bow out with his free hands. He stopped on a page that read 'true strike' – as he cast the spell, he fired a seemingly enchanted arrow that pierced right through the beast's shoulder, separating its arm from its body entirely. As it fell awkwardly through the air toward the ground, a smaller bolt not only pierced through the falling arm, but pinned it into the monster's belly.

"Need a hand?" Sic said, blowing off the edge of his crossbow.


	13. Chapter XIII: The Best of Intentions

CHAPTER XIII: THE BEST OF INTENTIONS

Emily rolled her eyes as she forcefully pushed past the silly gnome – he upturned his hands as she extended her fingers in a tight formation, aiming for the mangled creature's head…

"What? It was a JOKE…lighten up, people!" Sic shouted hoarsely.

The undead creature decided not to take his advice as his head promptly exploded, due in great part to Emily's successful magic missile attack.

As the body of the undead menace slumped toward the ground, two more happily took its place as they rushed into the room, looking just as hideous as their fallen brother. The first came too close, too soon – Barakus and Sic both raised their weapons and sank them deep into the creature's shoulders – the barbaric greataxe took a sizable chunk out of the monstrosity, spilling a black, sludgy ooze out onto the ground…on the other shoulder, Sic's new Morningstar was certainly pulling its weight – the second creature was killed much faster than the first.

Furrius examined the bloody ooze as it pooled and gathered, moving around the room as if…alive? No – undead. It slipped around the room, seeking some dark corner to hide in as the battle raged on around it.

The final charging beast was disintegrated by almost forty tiny pink shards, compliments of the powerful female wizard in the back of the room. She smiled meekly as Celathiel woke up, started dressing and headed toward the hallway.

At the far end, Krougu, Barakus and Illonel had already gone into the newly opened door – sure, the dark room was dingy, moist and decrepit…but at least it had three more rabid, soulless creatures, ready to rip out the traveler's throats inside… One stood in the blind spot of the doorway, slashing at Illonel with its massive claws jutting out from its furry arms – dodging nimbly, Illonel thrust his magic rapier into the monster's chest. As he pulled it free, the creature's eyes grew dim as it turned to run, incredibly scared of either Illonel's power or the magical enchantment…of course, the enchantment was performed by a man of god…

Illonel smiled. "Do it, guy. Use the power Wee Jas has granted you; rebuke these undead fucks…"

Furrius stood cautiously in the doorway, behind Emily and in front of Sic. "I…" he started, but in the few seconds of hesitation, one of the beasts lunged at Krougu and bit into his shoulder, spurting blood out of his thin, decaying jaw.

"Flee, foul beasts!" Furrius shouted, raising his hands to Wee Jas. Finally summoning the courage to attempt the skill, Furrius was a bit disappointed with the results – the creatures hadn't turned tail and ran like he had dreamed, but instead stood cowering, warily eying up the clergyman…

Growing more and more irritated with these creatures, Barakus swung his greataxe from behind Krougu – with a mighty crack, the flat edge of the axe slammed into the attacking creature's head, exploding it in a shower of blood and brain particles.

Sic and Furrius turned green momentarily, shaking off the brutishly gory display. Now freed from the grip of the monster, Krougu drew his short sword and plunged it deep into the throat of the third creature, ripping the spine of the beast out with it. The sack of jelly fell to the floor, a quivering, bloody pile. More of the black blood spilled, nearly a gallon of it…it swirled around, infusing itself with the other smaller pools around the room…as Illonel stepped near it, he slipped in the sludge and fell with a deafening thud on the dirt floor.

"What'd I miss?" Celathiel asked, rubbing his eyes from halfway down the hall.

"Everything! There's undead all over this place…there's one more right around this corner, five feet – can you nail it?" Furrius said quickly, trying to rid the dungeon of the undead menace before it could call upon reinforcements.

"Usually I need line of sight for a magic missile…" Celathiel thought out loud, steadying his hand.

"Well, I'm telling you exactly where it is, so just try!"

With a mighty spark of dark energy, Celathiel's fingertips glowed pitch black – two frosty looking shards shot out, zooming past Furrius' face in the doorway; over Illonel's prone body; past the right ear of the undead creature…

"Shit!" everyone in the room cried at once.

The magic missiles made fools of them by doubling back and slamming the beast right between the eyes, causing it to slump to the ground, lifeless once again.

"One more," Barakus said, pointing off at the far side of the large room – they took a second to examine the room – the walls and floor were the same as the rest of the rooms, but it was slightly more polished. The wall which the monster stood next was covered in looping trenches that were dug only a centimeter thick up to the ceiling – on the ceiling were even more trenches, looping around the entire ceiling until they all ended in the center of the ceiling at a hole as wide as a fist.

Disrupting the undead pool of sludge in the center of the room, Illonel bought them a bit of time – it shrieked wildly and shot off in several different directions. The final undead didn't have a chance to do more than heave a javelin at the feet of the heroes – two arrows, two crossbow bolts and two magic missiles scrambled him beyond all recognition. Unfortunately, more black sludge spewed out, leaping at the trenches on the wall…

Swirling through the trenches like a reverse bathtub drain, it headed up the wall, splitting out across the thoroughly decorated ceiling. Illonel tried freezing it against the wall with a ray of frost – a small section was stopped from climbing the wall, but the rest continued on, a good amount already past the frozen point. Celathiel took some time to focus on the fist sized hole above their heads, the nexus of the looping designs. Inside was a perfectly circular ring, with a small, black bar directly across it. Each half of the ring was hollow, making it look like a bracer or bracelet…

"Do we want to let it get where it's heading?" Sic asked, pointing up at the sludge, the only remaining 'foe' in the room. As he sat on Krougu's shoulders, he got a much better look at the ceiling – all the sludge was heading straight for the center hole at a full clip.

"I don't think we want to let it live, period," Furrius said, concentrating hard as he rebuked the undead from the center hole – he held his arms outright, forcing the spell to continue as it drained him terribly…he couldn't let it escape…even if he had no idea what it was…

Barakus and Emily lit their torches, swinging them at the ceiling – it bothered the sludge, but didn't stop it…across the room, the trapped ooze tripped Krougu, sending him and Sic to the ground. A puddle of it jumped on Krougu, hoping to claim its first victim…

"Bullshit…" Illonel whispered, disrupting the undead once more near Krougu's entangled feet. Unfortunately, the frost spell shattered as nearly a gallon of ooze joined the fight as it enveloped Krougu slowly…Sic cast a light cure spell on the darkness…all it did was jostle around, miffed but not deterred from its goal…

A ghostly hand wafted upwards into the center circle that Furrius so valiantly protected, sweat dripping off of his brow. Celathiel bit his lip, his right arm quivering as he manipulated his mage hand to turn the handle inside the tube...

"I hope you know…" Furrius began to warn, but Celathiel cut him off.

"Well I don't, so get over it."

The ring released from the hole, clanging down to the ground below. The cleric glanced back and forth between the hole above, which was now positively swamped with ooze, and his new friend Krougu, who was twitching on the ground as the darkness covered him like a blanket…screaming every Elven curse word in his head (and a few Draconic ones he had picked up from the entertaina-scrolls published in his home village) he let the spell stop, focusing instead on Krougu – with a forceful blast, the sludge released its captor and scurried up the wall, through the trenches and into the unprotected hole.

"I hope you appreciate that…" Furrius said, helping Krougu to stand.

"I do!" he said, coughing as he breathed deeply for the first time in minutes. "Honestly, I do!"

The celebration was short lived, however, as a single drop of the slime formed at the mouth of the hole – it slinked downward, growing like a jiggling icicle…as it touched the golden ring on the floor, it promptly slurped itself and the ring upward, sinking back into the hole. The room was so silent, they could hear a chain break a mile away – but what happened instead was far worse – a single beam of dark energy shot out of the hole in the ceiling, slamming into the ground with a force that rocked the very foundation of the obelisk.

"Move," Barakus grunted, running for the ladder, two rooms away.

"Yeah, I think we fucked up…" Celathiel said, trailing the pack as they rushed from the shaking obelisk. At the stone dais above, everyone grabbed a symbol and prepared to revert it to the original state it was in.

"Guys, what if…" Sic started.

"No!" everyone shouted back at him, their foreheads slimy with sweat.

"You don't get to have moral quandaries right now, okay? The fucking obelisk is crumbling around us!" Illonel said, completing the sequence. The doors pried themselves open and the seven of them rushed from the obelisk as it crumbled in huge chunks behind them…

The grass around the site had turned brown and dead and even the four miniature obelisks were crumbling. The dirt turned a rich black as the obelisks cracked and faded, huge piles of rubble where the obelisks formerly were…

From each of the five former obelisks, a beam of darkness issued forth, similar to the one back in the dungeon – but each of these beams were enormous…as they shot into the sky, the only term that could describe it was 'complete darkness'…though they dared not stay too close, they stared on at the swath of destruction left in their wake – almost the complete antithesis of lightening, each pulse of the dark beams that shot into the sky eliminated all sound from their ears, like a massive, dark vacuum…all they could do was stare on in wonderment as their carriage driver took off toward town, not worried at all about the measly six gold he had left behind…


	14. Chapter XIV: A Flighty Foe

CHAPTER XIV: A FLIGHTY FOE

The sky erupted in darkness, a darkness one usually sees in the very middle of the night, as great beams of dark energy continued to pummel the sky. The obelisk was completely wrecked; far off in the distance, the seven makeshift friends ran at a full tilt hoping to catch up to their ride…five miles back to town could prove very taxing…they couldn't even see the carriage as it disappeared over a hilltop, taking all promise of a safe journey with it.

"Great! Son-of-a-bitch!" Furrius wheezed as they ran.

"Don't stop," Barakus said, leading the pack. Sic stuck his tongue out at Furrius as he sat atop the massive man's shoulders. The smug way in which he regarded Furrius changed in a heartbeat – his eyes grew wide and his mouth literally hung open as wide as it could go.

From behind them, a gentle breeze brushed their necks; a much less gentle screeching brushed their ears. Like an eagle…but darker…more rugged…more…powerful…

Turning their heads as they ran (Barakus choosing to run backwards, still powering ahead of the group), they all caught a glimpse of the worst result of their tampering with the obelisk – a massive, sixty foot dragon flew straight up into the sky, riding the waves of dark energy that were pulsing from the obelisk...but now, it seemed that the pulsing anti-lightening was emanating from the dragon itself…

It was enormous compared to them…they realized just how large it was as it swooped menacingly down above them, knocking Illonel, Furrius and Celathiel over as it passed closely overhead. In a stunning and rather beautiful display, it spread its ebony wings and twirled, landing on the road between the adventurers and the town with a frightening crash.

Four dark black horns jutted from its skeletal head – deep, dark eye sockets filled its head, directly above a toothy maw. Patches of deep grey scales peppered its mostly black hide…as it heaved a deep breath, a thick, acrid smell came from its dank nostrils, which only happened to be fifty feet away from the travelers…

"It hurts…to breathe…" Celathiel said, coughing. It was true; the group had to cover their mouths with bits of their clothing to keep out the painfully acidic dragon breath.

The dragon screeched in a deep, punctuated series of growls and yelps, seemingly trying to convey a message – Furrius and Sic used their spells to comprehend Draconic…slowly, the screeches and growls subsided as a thick, dark common replaced it – but only in the bard and cleric's ears.

"Some mighty interesting company you keep," it said, and though it was heavily accented and translated, they could both sense it drenched in sarcasm.

Sic swallowed hard, trying his best not to scream out loud and lose control of his bowels. Furrius gave up on trying not to scream – instead, he covered his mouth tightly as he bit down on his small leather pouch, absorbing all of his completely justified screaming.

Krougu stood behind Barakus and Sic, looking visibly shaken – Sic thought about how poor a position he was in – he was nearly two feet higher than anyone in the group, sitting on Barakus' shoulders…he was practically begging to be eaten…the irony was delicious for Illonel, as he stood off to the side, biting his lip but showing no other signs of dismay. Celathiel stood a few feet away from Emily, both looking like they really wished the obelisk had never crumbled…

"W…were you imprisoned by the obelisk?" Sic asked, hoping that it was the case. Even if it did look exactly like a black dragon, harbinger of death and doom, perhaps there was a chance to reason with it…after all, dragons are exceedingly intelligent creatures…

The black dragon's decaying lips turned in a slight smile as it chuckled, a small huff of green smoke coming out of its nostrils. Without any warning, it spread its wings, snatched up Emily in its jaw and took to the sky, flying north, the beautiful elven wizard dangling helplessly from his mouth.

"Emily!" Illonel called, reaching an arm out to her…he knew it was futile…the dragon was a mile away before long, a distant fleck on the endless horizon.

"After her," Barakus said, drawing his greataxe.

Everyone but Furrius and Illonel laughed. "Are you crazy, lad? A black dragon? We're lucky we escaped with our lives!" Sic said, looking down into Barakus' auburn hair.

"Yeah, no way. It's miles away by now, we have no way to know where it's going…"

"And it might come back. We've got to get to town," Illonel said, his voice audibly choked. "We can't do anything about the dragon. Or Emily. It's…" he trailed off.

"It's best not to think about it, for now…" Furrius said, gently laying a hand out across Barakus' greataxe. The tall warrior scowled and shook his head in silent prayer for their fallen comrade.

"Can we decide what we're going to do about Emily when we get back to the room?" Krougu said, rushing past the group as he headed west, toward town. The five of them trod, trying to keep up…eventually, they all outran the gruff human to the point where he could barely keep up with them.

"What? Don't you wanna get back to town as quick as possible!" they taunted him as he fell behind. The taunts fell on deaf ears, however, as a familiar sounding beat filled their ears…clip, clop, clip, clop…hooves pounded the earth in all directions around them, coming from the thin forests on the side of the dirty path…

"Fucking horses. The guards are gonna be pissed about the obelisk…" Sic said, as the group continued to run at full speed.

"Stop where you are," a voice drawled out…it was steeped in wisdom, the owner clearly turned off by the entire idea of stopping these creatures in the first place…

From between a dark patch of trees came a normal looking man, sporting a small, yellow goatee and slicked back hair. His torso was dense and rippled, unclothed…tapering down into the powerful, brown body of a horse. A centaur followed by nearly fifteen of his friends slowly poked their way out of the forest, all of their shortbows drawn and aiming at the six weary travelers. The yellow haired leader trotted around them, sniffing and coughing despondently.

"Tell me…why do you run as though your lives are at stake?" he said in his prim and proper common.

Illonel remembered that centaurs spoke elven…an interesting trait, indeed, for he, Celathiel and Furrius all shared that information. When talking to a creature such as a centaur, its important to show them that they are respected…talking in a beautiful language such as elven was an easy way to do it.

"Good sir, we run as though our lives are at stake because they are…a black dragon has been unleashed upon the lands…" Illonel started, but the uppity centaur cut him.

"A plague that has been brought on by you!" he snarled, the elven turning downright scary.

"No…not intentionally…" Furrius said in his halted elven; his mother had taught him a great deal, but it had become rusty over the past few years with Barakus…

"We saw you leaving the obelisk…speak no lies!" the leader screamed, restraining himself from grabbing Furrius by the scruff of the collar. The rest of the centaurs started to chant, pumping their arrows into the air.

"Speak no lies! Speak no lies!" they chanted, keeping it in elven.

"Please, hear us out…all we want to do is speak with the Duke…surely you know the Duke?"

The head centaurs chin twitched back and forth and finally, he said, "you know the Duke? Fine. If that's where you WANT to go, I suppose there's no reason to drag you there against your will…but we will escort you, just to be safe…"

"What's going on?" Barakus asked, as the circle of centaurs closed and started moving down the path toward town, taking the six adventurers along like a piece of driftwood caught in a stream.

"Can I get a…" Krougu said, looking at one of the thicker centaurs.

Illonel quickly jabbed his finger over Krougu's lips, quieting him. "Do NOT ask for a ride…" he said harshly under his breath. Centaurs were typically neutral, though when a human asked them for a ride, to treat them like a common horse…it was not something many humans escaped from alive. Or, fully put together, at the least…

"The dragon went north…stay safe…" Illonel said, nodding professionally to the centaur.

"Safe journey, boys…" the leader said smugly, and as quickly as they appeared, they bounded off into the woods and vanished without a trace.

As they neared the walls of the castle, Celathiel's eyes narrowed – when they were no more than one-hundred feet from the west entrance he tugged on Furrius' sleeve.

"It looks…cleaner. Like someone scrubbed all the walls of the castle…" he said, eyeing up the entire length of it – it certainly looked fresher.

"Who the hell would scrub the walls of an entire town? That job has to suck…" Furrius mused, heading forward.

"Maybe someone important is coming to town?" Sic proposed hopefully, still atop the weary barbarian. As if the voice reminded him, Barakus sourly dumped the gnome off of his head, relieved by the loss of nearly fifty pounds…

A sharp twang alerted the six of them to a group of guards positioned on the upper parapets of the town walls, each of them holding a drawn bow…once again pointing at the group…

"Jeez, can we ever go anywhere and not have arrows pointed at us? Is that so much to ask?" Krougu said quietly, raising his hands slowly…


End file.
